General Jack Year Two
by Flatkatsi
Summary: There are changes at the SGC
1. After the Frost

Spoilers for Heroes, Lost City

After the Frost

"Take a seat, Doctor." I glanced up briefly then resumed my perusal of the documents in front of me. I was completely familiar with its contents of course, but I used the ruse in the same way so many other people in authority have done to me, to throw the other person off guard. The difference was, it never worked with me. The doctor began to fidget after a few minutes.

I didn't leave him waiting long. Closing the file, I looked up into his serious face. He looked younger than I knew he was, his face unlined. Stress free. I didn't remember what that was like. The stress had been piled on me over the years until I felt weighed down with it. General Hammond's transfer to Washington, and my own promotion to Major General in sole command of the SGC, hadn't helped any.

Two stars – my reward for saving the planet and getting myself turned into a Jacksicle.

Some reward. Got the medal. Had my hand shaken by the new President.

I was still waiting for the flowers.

The question of my going on missions had been 'deferred'. What exactly was that suppose to mean? Too valuable. Ancient download. Not to be placed at risk.

For crying out loud! That wasn't the deal!

There was no Thor to appeal to. Mtyon and his band of merry gray men had left me high and dry, a quick beam back to the SGC and off they went. Didn't even hang around to wait for me to fully thaw.

I shivered, and saw the doctor giving me a calculating look. That look that doctors get when they smell a potential patient. Next thing he would be getting out his damn penlight.

Time to get this meeting back on track.

I sort of resented having to do this. Janet Fraiser's death had hit everyone at the SGC hard, and months down the track we were still coming to terms with it. Doctor Warner and some of the other staff from the Academy Hospital had rotated in the infirmary, but there was a limited pool of medical staff with the necessary security clearance to work here. We needed a full time CMO.

Doctor Roberts had a long career with the Air Force, entering straight out of medical school. He was a veteran of several conflicts, including the Middle East, and had a proven track record in emergency situations.

So why didn't I feel comfortable with him?

It was more than just reluctance to have anyone replace Janet. I had lost close friends and colleagues before. I knew the score. The fact that Janet was a non-combatant had made her death more shocking, and she would never be forgotten, but we had moved on from it, or at least as much as we ever could.

Roberts and I made polite noises. He had been fully briefed once he had accepted the post, and now I was doing the 'welcome to the SGC' thing. The "Hi, I'm General O'Neill and I'll be your commanding officer until you're killed" thing.

Shit! Where had that thought come from?

I shivered again, feeling the tremors running up my chest and the hairs on my arms standing up.

Roberts leaned forward.

"Are you all right, General?"

I smiled back. My nice smile. The 'I'm your CO and I can sit here and shiver as much as I want and I don't have to explain a thing" smile.

"I'm fine, thank you."

There were some things I knew the doctor didn't know. Like what had happened to me. The whole Ancient's download episode was so top secret that only a very small number of people were aware of it, and Roberts wasn't one of them. That had been my choice. If, at a later date, I decided he needed to know about it, I was authorized to tell him.

I took him down to the infirmary, introduced him to the nurse in charge, and took my leave with an invitation to come see me if he had any problems.

I couldn't get away from him fast enough.

I shivered again.

God, it was cold down here in the Mountain.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Jack."

Oh crap. Here it comes again. I can already hear the words.

"Yes, Daniel?"

He has this look on his face that would make most people do anything he wants. I'm not most people. I've known him far too long.

"Will you help me with this translation?"

I knew there was a reason why I pretended to be dumb for all those years.

"No, Daniel. I'm much too busy. You may not have noticed, but I have a base to run." "But you're the only one who speaks fluent Ancient, and this inscription may be very important. It could just be the breakthrough we need."

I couldn't help the sigh. "Like the last three translations, Daniel?" I could see the disappointed look on his face, so I threw him a bone. "I'll try and have a take a look at it later today, but I can't guarantee anything. I've got a lot of work to get through." I gestured at the ever growing piles of reports on my desk.

"Don't you have underlings to help with that?"

This time I couldn't help myself. I ground the answer out from between gritted teeth. "No, Daniel, I do not have underlings to help me with it. It may have escaped your notice, but General Hammond took his aid with him to Washington. My aid was transferred during my little holiday in the snow, and a new 2IC hasn't been appointed yet."

Daniel took two steps back. "Ah, sorry, Jack. To be honest, I hadn't realized. Why don't you at least appoint an aid?"

"I would, Daniel, if I could get the time to follow through on the paperwork." I spat the words out. "But I keep getting distracted."

"Oh, look! Is that the time?" Daniel made a show of looking at his watch. "I must run. Got a meeting. Bye, Jack. Don't work too hard."

And he was gone before I had a chance to kill him.

I gave the papers on the desk a spiteful glare, wishing they would just spontaneously combust, then picked up my pen again.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The wormhole closed behind SG-17 and the iris folded itself across the opening. Another team off world. One more team to worry about. One more to envy.

There was another scheduled to leave in an hour. SG-1.

Major Carter, Doctor Jackson, Teal'c and Captain Evans.

Just a team like any other. Nothing special.

Yeah, right, Jack. You keep telling yourself that.

I almost wished I didn't have to be there to watch them leave, but George had always been there for us, and I wasn't going to break the tradition for my own selfish reasons. Just because it hurt so much to watch them go through that gate without me.

I felt eyes upon me, and turned to find Doctor Roberts standing watching me.

"Were you wanting something, Doctor?"

Despite his ready smile I found myself unable to warm to the man. Fortunately, the only injuries since his appointment had been minor, and I had had very little to do with him, our longest contact being at the twice weekly team leaders meeting.

"I wonder if I could speak to you privately, General?"

I nodded and lead him to my office.

"What is it, Doctor?" I waved him towards the chair. He waited before speaking, settling himself comfortably.

"I have been going over the medical records of all personnel at the SGC, sir, and I noticed an anomaly."

"And what might that be, Doctor?"

"Everyone has completed a recent medical except one key staff member." He looked at me steadily.

I had know this was going to come up eventually, so it wasn't a surprise.

"I take it you are referring to me, Doctor Roberts."

He nodded, putting the thin file he was carrying down in front of him on my desk. I looked at it.

General O'Neill.

I smiled.

"And you have a problem with that, Doctor?"

"Yes, sir, I do. Firstly, I have a problem with the lack of details in this file. There appears to be several sections that are either sketchy or nonexistent."

I raised my eyebrow and looked innocent.

"Maybe that's because there is nothing medical to report on."

"There are periods of several months when there isn't even a routine physical examination listed." He turned the file around and held it out, pointing. "According to this, you haven't visited the infirmary for months, and yet... "He poked a short stubby finger out towards my face, "you have at least one recent injury."

I felt the muscles in my cheek twitch, the long scar pulling slightly. The silence lengthened as I just sat, watching him. It wasn't long before he dropped his eyes from my gaze, looking a little flustered at my lack of reaction.

He made a show of referring to his notes. "I have penciled you in for a full medical tomorrow morning, sir."

"No."

He looked up, startled. My opinion of him dropped a few more notches. He shouldn't have been surprised. It was obvious that there was more going on here than just a senior officer avoiding medicals, he had already worked that out. My refusal shouldn't have been a shock to him.

"I beg your pardon, General but..."

I cut him short.

"My medicals are completely up to date. They are carried out off base by another physician. I will give you his name, and if there is any need to, you can request any necessary information from him. What he provides will depend on his assessment of the circumstances."

"May I ask the reason for this, sir?" Roberts was very, very annoyed and not hiding it well.

"No, you may not, Doctor." I wrote on a piece of paper, folded it and handed it to him. "This is the doctor, Commander Coates. You'll find his direct number there as well. I would appreciate you keeping this discrete and only using it in an emergency."

His eyes opened wider. "Commander Coates? The President's physician?"

"That will be all, Doctor Roberts." I nodded my dismissal, continuing as he stood. "Anymore information is on a need to know basis, and frankly, Doctor, you don't need to know."

For a moment, just as he shut the door to my office behind him, I caught a glimpse of his unguarded expression. It wasn't just anger and frustration, there was something more to it than that. Something I couldn't put my finger on.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The next few weeks saw things calm down a little. I found myself settling into General Hammond's shoes without much difficulty, especially after my new aid was appointed. Colonel Harper, as the most senior officer at the SGC and one I personally liked, had slotted in excellently as my 2IC. The decision had been made not to transfer a second general to the command, as there wasn't anyone appropriate available. Apparantely it was considered that I could handle the job well enough by myself.

I suppose George had done it for years, so there really wasn't any reason why I couldn't.

Except one.

One very big reason.

General George Hammond had stepped through the Stargate on less than a handful of occasions.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"General O'Neill?" Teal'c's voice followed hard on the heavy knock at the door of my quarters. I turned over on the bed, rubbing a hand across my face. I was feeling fronic, and for some reason, the temperature seemed to have been turned down yet again.

"Just a sec." I stood as I called, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. The clock told me it was early evening and that I had slept for two hours in the middle of the day. Now I knew how George had always seemed to be everywhere, available whenever he was needed. I bet he took these little naps as well.

I straightened my uniform and opened the door, finding my three old teammates on the threshold.

I grinned, glad to see them for the first time in days.

"Hi, guys."

Carter smiled in return. "We're going out to dinner, sir, and thought you might like to come."

I peered over her shoulder, not seeing the fourth member of their team. "What about Captain Evans?"

"He's got a date. Come on, Jack. We haven't talked for ages." It was as if Daniel was already prepared for me to say no.

I mentally ran through the schedule of arrivals and departures, feeling like an airport information board. No team was due to depart tonight and we only had one team off world, on a routine survey mission of an uninhabited planet.

"Okay, just give me a minute to change." I shut the door on their pleased faces.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"We have something to confess, Jack."

I sat back, pleasantly full. O'Malley's did a mean steak. It had been so long since I had eaten off base that I had forgotten what good food tasted like. Nothing was going to disturb my good mood.

"What would that be, Daniel?" I picked up my glass and took another sip of beer.

Daniel didn't answer immediately, exchanging glances with the others. I was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

"Ah..."

Teal'c jumped in, taking over from an obviously worried Daniel. "Doctor Roberts has been enquiring into your past."

"I beg your pardon?!" I was totally taken aback. This wasn't what I had imagined at all.

"He's been asking around. Discretely, of course, but I heard him asking Lou about your service in the Gulf War." Carter took a sip of her white wine, her face troubled. "Then I compared notes with Daniel and Teal'c. Then I..." She colored slightly and looked down. "I, ah, checked his computer records. He has details on you going back to your enlistment."

I didn't say anything for a minute, as I processed the information. Then I asked a question.

"Just how extensive was this information?"

"Very, Jack." Daniel nodded his head as I turned to him. "He had details of your activities while in Special Ops."

Shit!

I was thankful that my friends knew about my past activities. There were still a few things I knew they were unaware of, and that I didn't want them to find out, but basically they were familiar with it all.

I beckoned the waiter over, and got refills for us.

I knew there was something wrong with the Doctor. What was Robert's game?

"Do you think he's NID?" I looked up to gauge their reaction.

Teal'c shook his head. "I do not. O'Neill. We have had no problem with the NID since Kinsey resigned from office."

"I agree, sir. The NID seems to have cleaned up their act over the last few months. Plus I really don't see what Doctor Roberts could discover that the NID weren't already aware of."

I nodded in response to Carter's words. Roberts didn't have the NID signature. This was something more personal.

Some more discussion, more speculation, and we were no further towards working out what Roberts was up to than we had been when they first told me.

It was getting late, the room emptying of customers, so we decided it would be safe to play a few inconspicuous games of pool.

Daniel and Teal'c played the first game, Daniel winning by one ball. They had been playing against each other ever since my thawing. You see, I wasn't a very good opponent anymore.

Carter and I tossed for the break. I won and she gave an audible groan. I lined up the first shot, seeing the angles and analysising the force required. The game was finished in three minutes without Carter getting a chance to play.

"Oh for crying out loud!" Carter threw the cue down in disgust. It's not often that we see an angry Carter, but when she cracked, she cracked big time. I mean – that was my expression! "This is just not fair! Daniel and Teal'c won't play pool with me because I beat them, and unless I get first shot, a game against you is pointless."

I couldn't help it. It wasn't like I did it on purpose, it was just instinctive.

I went and bought some more drinks, and by the time I was back, Carter was playing against some other woman, her boyfriend watching.

Something else I had lost to the Ancient's download. The ability to lose at pool.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

I pulled into my driveway, noting the drapes moving in my neighbor's house. The musty air hit me when I unlocked the door, and I stood for a moment in the gloom.

I hadn't been home for weeks, and finally I had had enough. I wanted to sleep in my own bed, relax with a beer, and watch TV without worrying that I would be called to an emergency at anytime. I wanted to slop around in old jeans, and not worry what others would think.

I wanted privacy.

I wanted my life back.

I moved around the house, pulling back drapes and throwing open windows. I packed away the groceries I had bought on the way there, remade the bed with fresh sheets, had a shower, and changed into comfortable clothes. At last, I sat on the lounge, beer in one hand and the remote in the other.

Bliss.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The bottle slipped from my grasp as I put it on the coffee table, and for once my ability at sizing up angles deserted me, as it joined the other one that had already emptied its contents on the carpet.

"Now, Jack. You know I can't do that."

The voice on the other end of the phone was patient and understanding. I tucked the receiver under my chin and pulled another bottle towards me, expertly popping the top.

"A few trips through the gate won't hurt. It's not like I have any special abilities or anything." I took a sip from the bottle and thought for a second. "Except pool. I can play pool really well." My brain slipped into gear, and I realized I shouldn't have let that secret out. Maybe he hadn't heard. "Would you like a game of pool, Mister President? Next time you're in town that is."

For some reason President Hayes seemed to find that very funny. It was a while before he got himself under control enough to speak, his laughter echoing down the line.

"No thanks, I don't think I'll play pool with you." Crap – he had heard me. His voice suddenly became serious. "Listen Jack, it isn't just what's inside your brain that's important to us. We don't want to risk losing you. We have almost done that too many times already. Doctor Weir was right in one regard. You've done enough for this planet, and it's about time someone else took the risks."

"What if I want to take them?"

"Go to bed, Jack. Sleep in. Wake up and smell the roses. I'll call you in a couple of days, when you've had a chance to think about it some more. Okay?"

I reached for the bottle again.

"Do I have to order you to go to bed, Jack? Put that bottle down"

I snatched my hand back from the bottle and looked around. Were there cameras here? How the hell did he know what I was doing?

"No, sir. I mean. Yes, sir!" I stuttered into the mouthpiece, managing to hang up, the peels of laughter cut off in mid flight.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Oh god, my head hurt! I pulled on a sweater over my T-shirt, and shivered, swallowing down the aspirin.

In the cold light of day, my decision to call the President of the United States and ask him to let me go off world, didn't seem quite so smart. I mentally reviewed the conversation and grimaced. At least President Hayes hadn't seemed upset by it, if anything he had sound amused, but I didn't think I had done my cause any good. I'd be lucky if he let me command a sentry post after that little performance.

Oh well. Nothing I could do about it now. It was water under the bridge. And what I had told him was correct. An almost supernatural ability at pool playing, and being able to speak a language so dead that no one else could understand it was hardly a marvel.

And let's not forget the ability to feel cold on the warmest of days.

I could see myself as a super hero. Pool Man to the rescue! He shivers in the face of danger!

And for this I got to stay in an office hundreds of feet underground and order the toilet paper.

I looked out my kitchen window at the glorious summer day. Come on, Jack. Might as well get some fresh air before you have to go lock yourself up again. Exercise the old kozars, get a bit of a tan.

The garden was looking neglected, the lawn dry despite recent rain. The grass had crept over the edge of the path in some places, and the trees were scruffy and wild looking, in desperate need of a prune. Everything looked a little as I felt – sad, depressed and neglected.

The large rose bush at the side of the patio was covered with dead and dying flowers, their red petals falling even as I watched.

Maybe I should just give it all up. If I couldn't go through the gate, couldn't experience the thrill of meeting new races for the first time, seeing new stars in alien skies, and fight the Goa'uld in my own way, then what was the point? I was tired. I'd saved the world and perhaps it was time to let go. Retire. Go fishing.

I remembered President Hayes order of the night before.

Smell the roses.

I reached down and cupped a withered bloom. It was like me, old and way past its use by date.

I closed my eyes and held the dying rose, thinking of all the people who hadn't been able to make the choice to step away.

Scent filled the air and I looked down. Before my very eyes, limp petals, sucked dry by the heat of summer, swelled into renewed bloom. The rough edges of dry plant became soft, velvety, and color bled into the rose from every point where the skin of my fingers touched it.

Blood red and beautiful, it lay in my hand, still connected to its dying bush, an anachronism of life.

Okay, that's not something you see everyday.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo


	2. Powerful Surges

Spoilers: Heroes, Lost City.

Note: This fic, and subsequent parts, assumes knowledge of the events at the end of Season Seven.

Powerful Surges

My day started quietly enough. Bacon and eggs in the mess hall, giving me a chance to speak with some of the personnel who had no reason to otherwise cross my path, then back to the office to read their reports before the briefing with SG-2.

I could see them through the door. Despite the assorted scrapes and scratches Ferretti and his team were laughing and joking, clustered around the coffee pot, talking animatedly. At least until I entered the room.

The atmosphere sobered as they registered my presence, quietly moving to the table and waiting until I had seated myself. Lou gave me a smile and I nodded back in return, opening the file I had carried in with me.

The briefing was, well – brief. A minor skirmish with the locals, no real injuries, just enough to get the adrenaline flowing. All in all, a pointless mission. I knew I was frowning as Lou described the fight, his team nodding in agreement, their faces excited at the memory. I held my finger below the bullet point summery attached to the end of the document, noting the cost of a mission with no return whatsoever, and looked up, about to cut him off in full flow.

Then I saw Lou's new team member, Lieutenant Hong, looking at me. With that look I knew I'd had many times. I had just been able to hide it better.

That look that says, "You haven't got any idea what we're talking about or what we go through when we are off world."

I realised that he was just one of several new, young SGC team members that had only known me as General O'Neill, the pen pusher, the bureaucrat.

I shut the file and smiled at Lou, telling him 'well done' and that I was glad they had all made it back in one piece. They left, probably planning a team evening.

I walked to the large window, looking down at the gate. Walking through it already seemed like a distant memory.

"General O'Neill?" My aid stood at the open door. "You have that meeting at Peterson in an hour, sir. Would you like me to bring the papers in here for you to go over?"

I shook my head, mentally sighing, but outwardly showing no sign of my depressing thoughts. "No, I'll read them in my office."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Thirty minutes later I was in the elevator, about to head for the surface and the pleasant prospect of the Quarterly Fiscal Projections.

Joy.

I nodded at the two SFs already there, going home after their shift in the Gateroom. The doors shut. I pressed the button.

And everything went black.

Crap!

Don't tell me this is the latest manifestation of my totally ridiculous super powers? An ability to short circuit things. That'll come in handy – not!

Then the alarms started. Flashes of red light showed through the crack between the doors.

The emergency lighting flickered into life and, just for a second, I stood there.

"Give me a boost." I pointed up at the hatch in the ceiling.

I ignored their incredulous looks and was already up and standing on the top of the car when I realised I should have gotten one of those young men to do this. A hand appeared at the open hatch and I reached down and pulled. The Sergeant appeared, looking rather stunned to find himself standing in an elevator shaft with a general.

"Come on." I didn't waste time with explanations. I was already half way up the access ladder to the next level before the Sergeant had pulled his companion up to join him.

I would be damned if I would be stuck in an elevator while my base was on alert.

My knee was protesting loudly by the time we opened the doors and crawled out into the corridor. I rubbed my greasy hands along my trouser legs, a passing wish that it was permissible for a two star general to wear BDUs to a meeting, and headed for the stairs, the SFs following close behind. In a matter of minutes, I was back where I started.

The activity was frantic in the Control Room. Carter was already at one of the computer terminals, tapping at keys at what looked to be the speed of light. Sergeant Davis was seated next to her, adding his keystrokes to the rapid sounds.

"Report."

Heads turned, and I'm pleased to say that the majority of faces showed relief at the sight of me.

"I thought you had already left the base, sir." Carter smiled and turned back to the screen. "It appears to be a widespread power failure originating on the surface. We only have limited access to the computers. I'm trying to reboot them now. Fortunately the emergency overrides have taken care of any security issues."

I looked down at the Gateroom below us and nodded. The iris was safely across the gate.

"Any idea what caused it, Major?"

"No, sir." Her fingers didn't pause as she answered. "There has been no communication."

"Where's Colonel Harper?"

My aid appeared as if by magic. "He was up on level nine, sir."

That put him out of the picture. We were cut off from any level above eleven once the emergency procedures came into force. SG-6, SG-11 and SG-16 were all off world, with only SG-11 due back within the next couple of hours.

"Is the gate operational?"

Carter shook her head. "The dialling computer is down. We should be able to dial out once manually if absolutely necessary, but for all intents and purposes I would have to say no, sir."

She left the rest unsaid, but I knew from the look in her eyes that incoming wormholes were another matter entirely, and without the computer there was no way to identify friend from foe.

I gave orders to keep working on the problem, even though I knew they would, and headed for my office. Within a few minutes most of the team leaders on base had reported in. Apart from the normal problems associated with working in barely enough light to see by, everything was running to plan.

The last to report was Doctor Roberts. There were no patients in the infirmary when the lights went out, but two base personnel had since been admitted with minor injuries. One of the scientists had spilt a chemical on herself when the blackout hit just as she was completing an experiment. The burns were minor and easily treated. The other injury was a twisted ankle, a cook having tripped on some stairs.

"Thank you, Doctor." I nodded my dismissal, already preparing to return to the Control Room.

"General, I was wondering if I could have a word about another matter?"

He sure picked a great time to want to talk. I was already half way to the door. "Another time, Doctor. At the moment I'm a little busy." I didn't even try to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

He followed me, walking just a step behind me. "I can understand that, General, but this is important."

"Alright, Doctor Roberts." I lead him over to an occupied corner of the room, all the while watching the activity around us. Everything seemed to be under control, so I could afford to give the man some time, even if every instinct was telling he that I didn't want to be within ten feet of him. "What is it?"

He looked around as if checking that no one was listening, before speaking, his voice low. "Sir, I am concerned about your ability to run the base in this crisis."

Just what exactly did he mean by that! I hardly saw the man from one day to the next and now he was trying to tell me I wasn't capable of doing my job. He didn't give me the chance to speak – hurrying on, his words pouring from his mouth in a way that reminded me of Daniel on a bad day. "You have refused to allow me to examine you, and yet you show every symptom of a stress related condition. As the base CMO, I am able to order you to hand over command to someone else if I feel that your judgement is affected."

I pushed my hands deeply into my pockets to prevent myself from punching him in the mouth. "What exactly are these symptoms, Doctor?"

He seemed surprised at my calmness. If he could have read my mind, he would have run a mile.

"Well, sir..." He hesitated. "There is the trembling."

Trembling!

Shit!

I stayed calm.

"I happen to feel the cold a little more than most people, Doctor. I hardly think that constitutes a reason for relieving me of command." My tone was as icy as my temperature. "Is there anything else? Perhaps something I should take a little more seriously?"

"Given your previous history, there are numerous indicators of stress, sir."

I cut him short. "Previous history? What previous history?"

His smug face smiled up into mine. "Doctor MacKenzie was kind enough to allow me access to his files."

This time I did see red.

The lights came on.

It was then that the gate decided to activate. Go figure the chances.

I hurried to the observation window, the doctor forgotten. All eyes were on the spinning ring. There was nothing normal about this. The chevrons weren't locking into place, the gate was spinning faster and faster.

"Carter?"

"I don't know, sir!" She was the only person in the room not mesmerised by the sight.

"Christ!" I wasn't the only one who cried out. The rivets holding the gate in place began to pop out of the metal supporting frame, acting like giant bullets. In the few seconds it took for Davis to lower the blast screen, several had already shattered the glass.

I knew this because I felt the shards ripping past me. There were sounds, frighteningly loud in the confined space, sounds I knew well. The impact of a foreign object on a human body.

The metal clunked down over the window. Behind it, in the Gateroom, I could hear the scream of tortured metal. In the Control Room, I could hear the screams of pain. I uncurled myself from my instinctive crouch beneath the window. The lights seemed horribly bright after so long on emergency lighting, especially when I registered the destruction the rivets had left behind.

One of the technicians was on his back just a few feet to the left of me, blood pouring from a gapping wound in his chest. An airman was clutching his arm, red dripping from the neat hole in his wrist and just about everyone else was covered in small cuts from the glass. I spared a look at Carter, knowing that unless she was badly injured, she would be working to find a solution to the problem with the gate. I just hoped she would find one before it ripped itself from its supports. If the sounds coming from the Gateroom were anything to go by, that moment wouldn't be long in coming.

Glass dropped from me as I hurried across the room. Doctor Roberts was already kneeing beside the badly injured man, a first aid kit next to him.

"Carter!" I threw out the words in passing.

"I'm working on it, sir."

"How is he, Doctor?" I knelt on the floor next to them. Devon – that was his name. I was glad I remembered it. His face was pasty white already, small beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Roberts looked up, and for a moment I saw despair in his eyes. He shook his head.

"Get a medical team down here now!" I heard someone speaking urgently into the phone as I turned back.

Roberts sat back on his heels, and rubbed a bloodstained hand absently across his face, leaving small streaks behind like war paint.

"It's no good, General. The damage is far too extensive."

I saw Devon's eyes flicker open, filled with pain, and reached down to take his hand. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It didn't matter, I'd been there myself far too many times not to know what he was trying to ask.

But could I give him an honest answer?

I bent down, careful to avoid the Doctor's gaze, and spoke firmly. "You'll be okay, Devon. Don't worry."

I tightened my grip on the limp hand, ignoring the man beside me. It was so unfair. Devon was young, with all his life ahead of him. He didn't deserve to die in such a way.

I lowered my head and shut my eyes, a sudden shiver passing through my body.

Great! Just what I needed to convince Roberts I was in complete command of my faculties.

"General." I heard Carter's voice as if from a distance. The cold seemed to be concentrated in my head, making my thoughts frozen and numb. By contrast, my hand was burning.

I opened my eyes and my vision tunnelled down, until all I could see was Devon, staring up at me as if I was all that was holding him safe. His grey blue eyes grew and filled up all the empty space I had left, until I lost myself in the blackness of their pupils.

Far away familiar words intruded, on the edge of my hearing.

"No! Don't touch him!" Carter was shouting. "Keep back."

The fire moved up my arm, until it spread into my chest and warmed me. The hand I held gripped harder and I had to make an effort not to cry out, as the numbness in my head left and my brain flared back into life with all the subtlety of a nuclear blast.

I felt myself slipping sideways, and only had time to hope someone was there to catch me before I blacked out completely.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"General O'Neill?"

There was something wrong about the voice near my ear. It was male for one thing, and instinctively I knew that wasn't right. Plus it sounded scared. The Doc never sounded scared.

The Doc.

Crap.

I opened my eyes and found Roberts two inches from my nose.

With a penlight.

Double crap.

I reached up and whacked it away, sitting as I did so. He didn't need to do that. There was nothing cruvis with me.

Oh Triple Crap!

My mouth opened, then I hesitated and nothing came out. The words were there, but somehow they weren't being processed properly.

I opened my mouth again and shut it just as quickly. Where was Daniel when I needed him?

Roberts was standing back a little now, staring at me as if I had grown two heads.

Maybe I had.

Nope. A quick touch with my hand confirmed I only had one, albeit a head that was slightly the worse for wear if the ache was anything to go by.

So what the hell was wrong with him?

I twisted, taking in my surroundings. The infirmary. Didn't see that one coming. Yeah, sure. I was still in my uniform so I couldn't have been unconscious for too long. Now it was just a case of working out what had happened.

Through the open door, I could see that several of the other beds in the main ward were occupied, and I peered at them, trying to get any clue. Nothing looked too serious. In fact, Devon looked like he was having a nap.

Devon.

The gate!

I leapt to my feet, ignoring hands grabbing at me.

"Jack!" The sound of Daniel's voice stopped me in my tracks. "Wait."

What's going on? What happened with the gate?

That was what I wanted to ask, but all that came out was Ancient.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Devon came to see me today.

He knocked at my office door, looking nervous, as if he wasn't sure of his reception. He thanked me. He also admitted that he didn't really remember much of what happened after the rivet hit him in the chest, just that I had been there. He told me that he felt as if my being there had kept him alive.

He didn't know the half of it.

I told him to forget it, keeping my words simple, and concentrating as I said each one.

The power cut had been total across three states. Something about a transformer and a lightning strike. Nothing sinister about it.

The gate malfunction was another matter. That was still unexplained. It had shut down soon after my collapse, fortunately without sustaining too much damage. Carter was still running every test she could think of to try and work out the reasons behind what happened. So far, her best guess was that the surge as the power was restored had caused it.

Doctor Roberts and I had had a long and very serious talk, with the help of Daniel's translations. He had agreed to not speak with Doctor MacKenzie again. My telling him I knew he had information on my background, and suggesting that perhaps he should consider seriously who he would rather have as an enemy, MacKenzie, or myself, had what was, as far as I was concerned, a very positive response. A quick visit from Commander Coates, accompanied by several very sinister looking men in black suits, and the only contact I had had with Roberts since was when I visited the injured personnel in the infirmary. He had avoided me as much as possible.

The other staff in the Control Room were as completely in the dark about what had happened as we all had been during the blackout. Everything had happened so quickly. I knew there were a few strange rumours doing the rounds, but they were mainly concerned with Doctor Robert's amazing medical skills.

As for me, three days after Jack's Wonderful Adventure, I was almost back to normal. Or what past for normal with me nowadays. Coates had checked me over, done all those brain scans I had become so use to, and declared me to be no danger to myself or others.

I wasn't so sure.

There was just one thing Coates didn't know, and there was no way he, or anyone else outside of my old team and Roberts, was ever going to find out if I could help it. One old, grouchy Jaffa master, and a young gate technician were alive because of me, and that was something I was happy to live with, but I could just imagine how long I would be walking around free if it came out. No. That wasn't going to happen. As far as Coates was concerned, I had had a brief collapse, possibly because of the power surge. The only result of this had been my trouble with the English language, and a killer headache.

The headache had been debilitating, and for once I had taken the painkillers Coates prescribed. Within an hour of his visit, I had left the infirmary for the privacy of my own quarters, where I could moan to my heart's content without anyone else hearing. I had been within an inch of calling the Asgard for help when it had left as suddenly as it had begun.

Now I was worried.

I looked down at my hands.

What else was left over from that damn download? Was I meant to just carry on as normal, knowing that I held such power in my hands?

What sort of a regular life would I be able to have?

I left my office, and walked into the Briefing Room, crossing to the window. Below me, the Stargate stood firm in its newly repaired cradle, dominating the vast space. As I watched, it began to turn, chevrons locking into place, as Carter ran through another test. As the blinding blue stream of light rushed its way into the room, I smiled.

What sort of a normal life could I expect even without all this Ancient stuff cluttering up my brain?

I knew the answer to that.

I hadn't had a normal life for years.

And I didn't want one.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo


	3. It's All In the Delivery

It's about time I thanked my wonderful beta, Gumnut, for all her work over the past – oh about fifty fics, big and small. (lol) She has stuck with me through whumping, angst and jokes. Thanks, Nutty.

It's All In the Delivery

The range was busy, with several personnel from both NORAD and the SGC completing their firearms re-certification.

I saw Sergeant Morley beckoning from the other side of the large room, and headed over to join him, smiling at the other members of the shooting team. This was the first time I had been able to attend a practise for months, and to be honest, I wasn't sure when I would be free again. Morley and I had already agreed that it would be better not to rely on my participating in any competitions, and he had begun actively recruiting new members. I saw at least three new faces in the group, two I didn't recognise, and one I did. Lieutenant Hong was standing beside Sergeant Ramez, the only other regular team member from the SGC. I nodded pleasantly at them. Ramez smiled back, Hong just looked surprised.

"Do you have time to wait until after the try outs, sir?" Morley gestured towards the group, "They look pretty keen, but that doesn't mean much." We both laughed, then he continued. "Would you like me to introduce you?"

I shook my head, pleased I had worn BDUs to the range. "No, why spoil their fun."

The first up was an airman from NORAD. He looked nervous as he walked to the firing position, but visibly steadied, and completed a good clean round. He stood back, smiling at the words of approval.

The major was next. I mentally ran through the list of NORAD personnel, confirming to myself that she was new to the base. I hadn't met her, I was sure, knowing I would have remembered her. She was tall, with perfectly groomed brunette hair, and a figure to die for. She stepped up confidently, finishing her round rapidly. Her score was good, but not great, and annoyance flashed in her eyes.

Hong performed well, the best of all three, but I had expected that. The selection process for SG teams was rigorous in every aspect, but especially in combat skills.

We took a short break, several of the regular team getting soda from the machine. I swallowed a coke in two gulps, sitting with one hip propped on the table. Major Freeman was talking animatedly to Morley, and I could see he was a little irritated by the conversation. I moved closer, and caught a few words. It was obvious the major felt she was entitled to another chance to prove herself. There was nothing intrinsically wrong in that, it was rather, the demanding method she was using to try and get her way. She had obviously worked out that she was the senior officer present, and wasn't above letting her rank do the talking. I listened for a minute or so, quite sure Morley was more than capable of dealing with the situation. At one point I caught his eye and he gave me a quick smile, which I returned.

However, as the time passed and still the major argued, I made a show of looking at my watch, letting Morley see. He nodded in understanding, and stood.

He called the group's attention to him. "We need to be getting on. Some of us have to be on duty soon."

We walked back into the range proper, and began our practise. Major Freeman stood off to one side, a slightly superior expression on her face. We moved through the regular team members, and I saw Hong giving me speculative looks as I waited. I had already asked to be up last, as I had another motive apart from just a chance to relax with the team. As I finally moved forward, the range officer came over, and nodded. I had very few chances to do my re-certification so had asked to combine it with my shoot.

My teammates stopped talking, straightening up and finding better positions to see from. The three newcomers must have picked up on the interest, as they moved forward as well, Freeman looking puzzled.

I looked at the target, and felt the strange warmth flow through me. I was finished before I had even fully realised I had begun, the sound of gunfire ringing around the range as I took off the earmuffs.

Oh shit!

Pool and shooting.

Damn!

The range officer's eyebrows crawled up into his hairline as he looked at the target. Then he wrote rapidly on the form in his hand and gave it to me.

I had a perfect score.

"I assume you passed, sir." Morley gave the target a critical look.

"Ah, yes, Sergeant, I did."

"May I see that?" A hand reached over and pulled the score sheet from my grasp. I spun. Morley flinched.

"Do you mind?" I held my hand out, but she ignored me and continued to read.

"Major." She glared at me, apparently not liking what she was seeing, either on the paper or of the man in front of her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Major. When you address me use my rank."

Everything stilled around me. The major's remark had been clearly heard by everyone near us.

I smiled.

"Of course, Major. Report to my office on Level Seven in fifteen minutes. It's the one marked 'General O'Neill'." I pulled the form from her suddenly slack hands and turned back to Sergeant Morley. "I'll try and make the next practice, Sergeant."

With a few farewell smiles and nods, I left the range.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

I didn't often use my office on the upper levels, only when I had to meet with someone on base that didn't have sufficient security clearance to go down to the SGC.

The knock came dead on the fifteen minute mark, and on entering, Major Freeman stood to rigid attention in front of my desk.

"I would like to apologise, sir." She certainly sounded apologetic, but I was sure it wasn't for the right reasons. "I had no idea who you were."

"I don't doubt that, Major Freeman, but that isn't really the point, is it?"

"Sir?"

She pretended she didn't know what I meant. Stupid woman.

"Major, your rank doesn't automatically mean you have the respect of others. And if you have no respect, you have no trust. This is a lesson I'm surprised you haven't learnt by now."

I looked at her, and knew by her eyes that she hadn't learnt anything from what had happened.

Well, maybe she had learnt something – not to ever cross my path again.

I dismissed her, telling her I would be speaking to her immediate superior about the incident. As she walked stiffly from the room, I took consolation in the fact that she wouldn't be on the shooting team She didn't cut it in more ways than one.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

My tie was biting into my neck, and I tugged at it, scowling into the mirror. You'd think I would be used to wearing one by now, but no – they always made me feel like the circulation to my head was being cut off.

I could hear voices in the corridor outside my office, and made a final adjustment before pulling the door open, a smile on my face.

"George! It's great to see you, come on in." I included the other members of the party in my welcoming gesture. "Sirs."

Generals Vidrine and Jumper followed General Hammond into the room.

"I'm sorry it's taken so long to do this, Jack." General Jumper began, apologetically, "But things just seemed to conspire to delay the ceremony."

Secretly, I would have been happy to have it delayed indefinitely, but I knew the official handover of the Base to my command was as important for the personnel as it was for me, so I smiled in an understanding way. "It's alright, sir. It took that long to get the stains out of the Gateroom floor after the last party."

George shook his head at me, laughing as he did so. "I never thought I would say this, Jack, but I've missed you while I've been in Washington."

"It's been a little quiet around here without you, sir."

"So I hear, General O'Neill." General Jumper's voice had that serious tone that I associated with disciplinary hearings. "So quiet that you have to resort to calling the President of the United States to chat."

I'd never called him. He always called me, just like the last one had. I began to shake my head indignantly when he continued.

"Even when you're off duty."

Oh god!

I had hoped that had all been a dream. A fevered imagining brought on by too much alcohol and not enough sleep.

I could take my punishment like a man. After all, what were they going to do? Court martial me?

Probably.

I looked into the stern face of General Jumper, barely registering the muffled sounds coming from his left.

Wait just a god damn minute!

General Vidrine was in fits of laughter, his hand over his mouth. I turned to General Hammond to see a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Classic Jack O'Neill." General Jumper chortled. "General Ryan warned me about you, but I really didn't fully appreciate just what having you in my command involved. When I found out what you did, I couldn't stop laughing. Haven't laughed that hard in years."

"Just don't make a habit of it, Jack." George raised a finger at me, looking like an old-fashioned school principle. "Especially at 2am."

I winced.

There was a knock on the door. Colonel Harper nodded at the assembled brass, and looked at me.

"We're ready to begin, General O'Neill."

Saved! Thank you! Saved!

"We'll be right out, Colonel." I turned to the still smirking men. "Sirs, after you."

The Gateroom was filled with ranks of SG teams, as well as with as many other personnel that could fit. SG-1 was standing in the front row, even Major Carter's military demeanour cracking a little, if the small smile was anything to go by.

"Attention!" Colonel Harper's voice echoed across the space, and there was the always heart stopping sound of many feet stamping together. I stepped up to the podium, thinking about how many times I had seen General Hammond do this, and I had a sudden understanding of Lieutenant Hong and the others like him. I had served closely with George for years. We had socialised, gone out for drinks, and, as friends do, swapped stories. He had served in Vietnam and other hot spots around the world. He had lead teams into combat, lost close friends, been wounded. Some of his scars could rival my own. But it had always been so hard for me to see him as a fighter. He was the father figure, the principal – someone you went to for advice and admonishment. It was easy to forget he had once been in the front line.

I was moving away from the front line with every day I didn't go through that gate. Not only could I see it in the eyes of the youngsters, I could see it in my own every time I looked into the mirror.

I placed both my hands on the smooth surface in front of me, and looked out over the assembled faces. Most of them I knew well, had served side by side with for years.

I smiled, opened my mouth and...

Shit!

Shit shit shit shit!

"No! You can't do this!" I knew I was shouting, but I just didn't care. I was the angriest I had been in a very long time.

This was once too often.

"I am sick and tired of you just grabbing me whenever you feel like it. I have a life you know, and it doesn't always revolve around what you want. Now put me back this instant!"

"We have need of you, O'Neill." Myton opened his large eyes wide, giving his face an air of surprise.

"I don't care! What is it? Don't you like my speeches or something? No, wait – that can't be it. You have never given me a chance to finish any!" I towered over the small Asgard, glaring down at him. I knew that if I looked out the large transparent panels, I would see the Earth floating below me, but for once I just didn't care. All my focus was on the alien in front of me. "I repeat..." I ground out the words, emphasising each one. "Put me back."

"But..."

"Ah!" I waved my finger in his face, and he took a step back. This time my voice was low, and fierce. "I don't want to know. The Earth could be about to disappear in a ball of flame and I wouldn't care. Send. Me. Back."

"Oh for crying out loud, O'Neill. Will you be quiet for once."

What?

I spun.

My eyes caught sight of him.

And without thought, my knees bent, folding my body down, and I embraced the figure sitting in the command chair. I felt his thin, bony, sticklike arms, his dry grey skin, and just closed my eyes, revelling in the presence of a friend that had been lost to me for too long.

Thor.

I could feel my lips spreading into a wide grin.

"My how you've grown."

I swear I caught a glimpse of a smile. His soft voice was as full as emotion as I'd ever heard it. "I take it you are pleased to see me?"

I straightened up, pulling my jacket down.

"Yes, of course I am, considering last time I saw you, you were dead." I tried to stop grinning, but just couldn't manage it.

Then a sudden thought hit me.

"Hey! What about that DNA stuff? How did that work out?"

"That is why we transported you up to our ship, General O'Neill." Myton came to stand beside me. "There seems to be a problem."

"Problem? What sort of problem?" I looked my little grey buddy up and down, seeing if I could spot any hair growing in strange places, or appendages sprouting where they shouldn't. Nope. Looked fine to me.

"Commander Thor has exhibited an unfortunate tendency to become easily upset." Myton lowered his voice so that I had to lean towards him to hear him properly. "He raised his voice today. We think it has something to do with your DNA, but unfortunately our scientists are unable to find the cause. We had hoped your medics might be able to shed light on the problem"

Raised his voice! Well, I could certainly see how that was emergency enough to pull me out from under the nose of my bosses. Yes, indeedy.

I glanced at my watch. I had been here for just over five minutes now, and I could imagine the chaos back at the SGC. The Asgard weren't the only ones with transporter technology, as we had found out to our cost. They must be sh... Ah...very upset.

I made a decision.

A very interesting one.

"Alright. Much though I'd like to stay and chat, I have to get back." Thor blinked, and I hurried on. "But I have a suggestion. What say Thor beams down with me, and we'll see what we can work out?"

Myton hesitated. "I am reluctant to agree to this. Supreme Commander Thor is not responsible for his own actions."

"Oh, give it a rest, Myton. I'm quite capable of looking after myself! I've been stuck in the medical bay for long enough as it is."

That was odd.

Looked like Thor.

Definitely didn't sound like Thor, or any other Asgard I had ever come across.

Nope. In fact he sounded familiar. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

I mentally reviewed the personnel in the Gateroom. Everyone had the appropriate security clearance.

I spoke firmly. "I will look after Commander Thor. There is no way I will let anything happen to him. Besides if you are looking for a solution to this problem we will have to consult our specialists, and they are down there."

Myton turned to another Asgard, speaking to him rapidly in their own language. I heard the words 'doctor' mentioned, and a quick discussion on Thor's treatment. Then Myton turned back and inclined his head once, blinking his eyes slowly.

"Very well."

They don't believe in long farewells, those Asgard.

There was a flash of light and I found myself looking out over the assembled faces and heard a collective gasp.

I turned to my fellow generals, still beside the podium. I raised my voice so it could be heard over the sound of the alarm, and looked across at George with an apologetic shrug and a half smile.

"Look what followed me home. Can I keep him?"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo


	4. Twisted Helix

Spoilers for Heroes 2 and Lost City

Twisted Helix  
  
I'd never forget the look on General Jumper's face when I beamed into the gateroom with Thor, as long as I live, which may not be very long if George's expression was anything to go by, but my train of thought was interrupted by a snarky comment from the small Asgard.  
  
"Would you care to introduce me, O'Neill? Or do I have to do it myself?"  
  
"Ah, yes, sorry." I stuttered over the words, surprised at his obvious annoyance. Perhaps the problem really was as big a concern as Myton had intimated. While one part of my brain was quickly introducing Thor to Jumper and Vidrine, the other was already worrying about the obvious changes in the little Asgard's behaviour.  
  
"Perhaps we should adjourn to the Briefing Room, General O'Neill?"  
  
General Jumper's words brought me back to reality. I looked at the astonished sea of faces assembled below me and grimaced. Yes, perhaps it would be better to continue the discussion in private. It looked like I was never going to get that official handover of the base.  
  
We'd have to put the finger food back in the freezer.  
  
I stepped forward to, quickly identifying the personnel I needed. "Doctor Roberts, Major Carter, and Doctor Jackson, please come with me. The rest – dismissed." Without waiting for the sound of footsteps to die away, I turned and led the way to Briefing Room.  
  
As soon as the door closed, I got down to the job of explaining Thor's presence at the SGC. The generals took it in their stride, but our new CMO looked as astonished as a trout out of its stream.  
  
We all sat around the table, Thor perched uncomfortably, his legs swinging, his eyes unblinking as he looked around. A short explanation of everything I knew, which wasn't much, and I waited for the inevitable questions. It was the source of the first one that surprised me.  
  
"Begging the General's pardon, but I don't see how we can possibility be of any help to Commander Thor. From what I've read, the Asgard have thousands of years more experience in the field of DNA research than we do." Doctor Roberts tore his eyes from Thor and refocused them on me, obviously waiting for my reply.  
  
Okay then. I knew the answer to that.  
  
What's with everyone staring at me, anyway? Even Thor. I'm sure if he had any eyebrows he would have raised them.  
  
There must be a logical explanation, otherwise Myton wouldn't have sent Thor back with me, would he? It can't have just been to get him out of the way. He can't have been that annoying, could he?  
  
Long, thin, bony fingers drummed impatiently on the hard wooden surface of the table. Was that a sigh I heard?  
  
Oh crap! Damn those sneaky little X-file rejects. They had gotten rid of him. Sent him down to upset us.  
  
I decided when in doubt, bluster.  
  
"The Asgard have shown confidence in our ability to help, Doctor." I fixed him with a stern glare. "And I have every confidence in our ability to do so. I'm sure Major Carter has already thought of some avenues we can explore." I ignored the strangled gasp from the woman in question, and hurried on, speaking louder to hide any further protests. "If I may suggest, gentlemen, this is an opportunity to advance the path of human genetic engineering."  
  
"Human, General O'Neill?"  
  
Uh oh! Now there was an aspect of this convoluted mess I hadn't thought of. They were all looking at me again, with varying degrees of confusion, waiting for me to answer General Vidrine's question.  
  
Thor answered it for me. His little body shook with laughter. "He hasn't told you, has he." He was almost falling out of his chair in amusement. It might have been better he had. "For crying out loud, O'Neill, are you ashamed of your own DNA or something?" Then, just as I thought he couldn't drop me any deeper into the shit than he had, Thor added the punchline. "Daddy, I'm hurt!"  
  
A nice cell in Leavenworth beckoned. I wouldn't have any more stress. I could just sit and rest. Not worry.  
  
"Is there something you would like to tell us, Jack?"  
  
Why, yes, General Jumper. You see, the Asgard used my DNA to help regrow the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet, but I didn't tell you. It just never seemed the right time to raise the subject, sir.  
  
I don't think so!  
  
I gave them all my most guileless look. "I think the Asgard may have used a sample of my DNA when reviving Commander Thor, but I'm not really sure. I thought it was just part of the funeral ceremony." I smiled.  
  
Thor snorted.  
  
I would have happily strangled him on the spot, if it weren't for the diplomatic repercussions. And to think I had been looking forward to seeing him again.  
  
A flash of light heralded the appearance of Commander Myton, clutching what looked some sort of computer disk thingies.  
  
He looked harassed. Dumping the disk on the table, he spoke rapidly. "This is information you may find helpful. Sorry, I must leave immediately." And was gone again before I could even take a breath.  
  
The little....  
  
"Jack, perhaps you should take Commander Thor to the infirmary." Jumper stood, casting a brief glance at his watch. Thank god for busy schedules. A reprieve. "We'll discuss this in more detail later." Ah. Maybe not.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Carter and Roberts were bumping heads at a computer terminal, while Thor sat quietly on a nearby bed, the object of much interest from the infirmary nurses. I realised that although I took the Asgard for granted these days, most of the SGC personnel had had little or no contact with our more obviously alien allies at all.  
  
I caught Robert's comment, his voice low and frustrated. "Even with this information, I don't see that we can be of any use to the Asgard."  
  
Carter was quick to respond, pointing out they had only just started investigating the problem, and it was too soon to make such judgments. She caught my eye and frowned, and I knew she was aware of my thoughts.  
  
Janet wouldn't have given up so easily.  
  
I had a sudden feeling of loss, wishing the tiny, dynamic woman was here, and suddenly realised Thor was staring at me. I saw the echo of my hurt in his eyes.  
  
Didn't want to go there. Not now. Not ever. Janet was gone, and no amount of grieving could ever bring her back. She joined the ranks of the lost.  
  
She had looked so serene, her face unmarked. As if she could stand and step out of her coffin, ready to cure and curse me, as she had so many times before.  
  
But she hadn't. Any more than Charlie had.  
  
No amount of wishing could make it happen.  
  
So I sat and glared furiously at Frasier's replacement, carefully avoiding the knowing eyes of the Asgard.  
  
After a while, Thor's attention was taken by Daniel's questions, as he tried to make sense of the few documents we had on Asgard genetic manipulation. I felt a sense of relief, as if pressure was suddenly released.  
  
With a loud bang, the fluorescent tube broke in a nearby light, crashing to the ground and scattering glass across the floor. I ducked, and straightened again sheepishly, hoping no one had noticed. One too many bullets had made me a little sensitive to sudden bangs. The flurry of activity as the mess was cleared masked my discomfort. I settled back down, one ear listening to Carter and the doctor, the other to Daniel and his constant questioning of Thor.  
  
Finally I could take it no longer.  
  
"Listen, kids, I'm going to go try and clear a tiny corner of my desk. Can you bring Thor up to my office in an hour or so?"  
  
I beat a hasty retreat, my leaving hardly noticed.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
One thing I had discovered over this last year and a bit was that paperwork can't be ignored. I could delegate as much as possible, but the forms, requests and requisitions that made it to my desk were essential to the smooth running of the base. And said smooth running was ultimately my responsibility. Despite this workload I still managed to find time to send each team off through the gate with a personal message of luck, just as George had done. Already, since I had left Thor in the tender hands of Carter and the others, I had seen two teams walk through the shimmering puddle, off to explore new worlds.  
  
SG-2, led by the newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Ferretti was due back in ten minutes, so I closed my laptop and made my way to the Control Room. The gate activated right on time, the IDC was received and I ordered the iris open. Lou limped through, grinning up at me, his arm looped over the shoulder of his second. I barely had time to register the blood running down his trouser leg when the lights went out.  
  
They only stayed off for a minute or so, but it was enough to send every alarm screaming and red light blinking. Was it any wonder I had a pounding headache by the time everything calmed down. Siler assured me there was no sign of any damage to the gate, Teal'c and the security team ran about the base with TERs like some sort of demented paintball enthusiasts, and Carter, Daniel and Thor were safely ensconced in the infirmary, out of harms way. The only suggestion the experts could make was that it was a by- product of the previous power outage. Not an explanation I felt happy with, but one that had to suffice for now.  
  
It seemed like hours later when I was finally able to check on Ferretti and his team. They had just finished their post mission physicals and Lou was sitting up in an infirmary bed already looking bored, his leg wrapped in bandages.  
  
"So what happened to you, Colonel?"  
  
He sat a little straighter, still unable to keep the surprise at being addressed by his new rank from his face. "We had a little run in with a rocky slope on the way back to the gate, sir. I took a tumble. Other than that it was a pretty uneventful mission."  
  
"So how's the leg?" I hadn't missed the slight grimace of pain as he moved.  
  
"It's just a deep cut. The Doc says it should only take a day or so of rest before its healed."  
  
I looked at the thick bandages and wondered what the Doctor had actually said. More like a week at least by what I had seen of the injury in those brief moments before the lights went out.  
  
Crap, my head hurt.  
  
That was it. I realised I had had nothing to eat since early this morning and it was already late afternoon. Between farewelling the generals, making sure Thor was looked after, and dealing with the problem with the power, I had had no time to scratch myself. I was tired, hungry and cranky.  
  
I was going home.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
My refusal of a driver might not have been my best decision I thought, as I turned the heater in my truck to high, shivering in the cold evening air. The road down the mountain was dim, despite the bright headlights, twisting in front of me. I sat forward, blinking to clear the fog from my brain, and tried to concentrate. This was definitely not a road to have an accident on, the sides dropping as they did steeply into darkness.  
  
For a second I thought of finding a spot to turn, to admit defeat and head back to base, but the very idea of spending yet another night on the uncomfortable bed in my quarters dissuaded me. I slowed down, ignoring the pain behind my eyes, and made it down to the bottom.  
  
Once I was on the level freeway and heading towards my house, I relaxed somewhat. The road was almost clear of traffic and I began to make good time.  
  
It hit just before my turnoff. I didn't even have time to slow down.  
  
One minute I was humming along to the song on the radio, the next I was trying to choke down the vomit rising in my throat. I didn't succeed. Within seconds the windscreen in front of me was covered so thickly that I couldn't see out of it, as I puked up my stomach lining.  
  
The sound of horns blasting and the screech of brakes were warning enough that I wasn't staying in my lane. Yeah, well guess what people, it's hard to drive straight when you are upchucking and can't see where you're going. I did the only sensible thing, stuck my foot on the brakes, groped for the hazard lights, and turned off the ignition.  
  
Then I proceeded to expel my insides. I vaguely registered the sound of irate voices, and the blast of cold air as my car door was opened, but I didn't raise my eyes to look.  
  
Nothing to see here folks, just a General dying.  
  
I hadn't been this sick since my high school friends and I managed to con someone into buying us four bottles of apple schnapps. Now there was a night I remembered only in my nightmares.  
  
I felt myself slipping sideways on the seat to the sound of a siren wailing in the distance.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Christ!  
  
I leapt about ten feet in the air, almost dislodging the large needle stuck in my hand.  
  
The huge eyes of a small grey alien, blinked twice, very slowly.  
  
Okaaay. I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore.  
  
"How are you feeling, sir?"  
  
That's funny, he can speak without moving his lips.  
  
Oh wait.  
  
I let my sluggish brain catch up with my eyes, and realised Doctor Roberts was standing on the other side of my bed from Thor.  
  
The Infirmary again. Oh joy!  
  
I swallowed, feeling the dryness of a long disused throat. Roberts held a glass of water towards me and I sipped it gratefully, waiting a minute, considering my reply carefully before speaking.  
  
"To answer your question, Doctor," I swallowed, lubricating my throat. "Like crap that's been left out in the sun too long. What the hell happened?"  
  
"We had a call from the local hospital, General. You had been brought in after collapsing while driving home. You were transferred here yesterday." Roberts was adjusting the IV line as he spoke, one eye on the monitors.  
  
Yesterday?  
  
"Exactly how long..." I let my words trail off, clearing my dry throat and hoping he understood the question without my needing to finish it.  
  
The doctor refilled the glass, offering it to me once again as he answered. "It's been three days since you collapsed, sir. You spent the first in the local hospital."  
  
Three days! I savoured the feeling of liquid on my tongue. No wonder my throat hurt.  
  
"You have caused your friends much concern. O'Neill."  
  
I took a look around the quiet room. Where exactly were my friends? I mean, I know the work of the SGC can't stop just because I'm ill, but I would have though at least one of my team would be on hand.  
  
Thor stepped closer, resting his delicate hand on my arm, as if he could read my thoughts. "The doctor refused to allow any visitors. Fortunately I did not need his permission to stay with you." He gave the watching man an ill concealed glare. "I told him there was no need for concern, that the presence of your friends would be a help rather than a hindrance, but he refused to listen. If you had not woken soon, I would have contacted your President and had this man removed."  
  
Roberts paled, and I grinned, unable to conceal my amusement.  
  
"Thanks, buddy. Now, can you get my team in here?" Even as I said it, I felt a pang of loss. They weren't my team anymore. Carter was leader of SG- 1 in her own right, a well-deserved promotion looming, unbeknownst to her, on the horizon. I had tried to step back, tried to step away, but no matter how much I tried I couldn't help thinking of them as my team. Maybe I always would.  
  
"Jack, it's about time." Daniel hurried towards me, anxiety warring with no small amount of anger clearly on his face. "Roberts wouldn't let us near you."  
  
"I offered to show the doctor the error of his ways, but Major Carter would not allow it." Teal'c's tall form loomed over the doctor, his deep voice conveying a message of undisguised menace. He prowled towards the head of my bed, moving lightly on the balls of his feet. Roberts backed away.  
  
Straight into Carter.  
  
Seemingly without thought, she pushed him aside, ignoring his grunt of indignation, and coming to join the others. "How are you, sir?"  
  
I looked up at them all, and smiled, already feeling better just for having them there. "I don't actually know, Major. No one's told me what's wrong with me."  
  
Roberts edged across to the side of the bed, as far from Teal'c as he could manage without being out of the room and cleared his throat importantly. "The trouble, General, is that we can't seem to find anything wrong with you. We've run a great deal of tests, and come up with nothing."  
  
Thor interrupted. "I have made several suggestions that the doctor has seen fit to ignore." The normally imperturbable Asgard's voice had an edge of anger I had never heard before. "Now you are awake, I will arrange for our transport to the Asgard medical facilities."  
  
Ah. Whoa there! This was all moving a little fast for my liking. I had been awake for, what, ten minutes?  
  
"Do you think that's wise, General?" Doctor Roberts leaned over, and whispered, obviously completely unaware Thor's hearing could pick up the sound of a pin dropping at fifty feet. "They are, after all, aliens."  
  
I spoke in a normal voice, or as normal as I could get after not speaking for three days. "I have no problem with going with Thor, Doctor. However, I will make the decision only after due consideration of all the pros and cons. Now, if you would please leave, I wish to speak to the Supreme Commander." I gestured to Carter and the others. "You, of course, can stay."  
  
I waited until the doctor had left, then patted the bed, inviting Thor to sit next to me.  
  
"I am very glad you are awake, O'Neill. I was beginning to go out of my mind with boredom with only that prejudiced human to speak to." Thor settled onto the end of the bed, near my feet, barely making a dent in the blankets. "That new doctor is an idiot." He spoke loudly enough to be heard through the closed door. Teal'c smiled grimly. Then Thor's voice sobered, and he continued, a little quieter. "I am truly sorry we were not here to help when your Doctor Fraiser was injured. She was a good person."  
  
I nodded in agreement, having no words with which to reply.  
  
After a moment of silence, Thor continued. "I believe I know what is causing your symptoms, O'Neill." He paused and looked me in the eye. "And I think you do as well."  
  
I didn't meet his gaze, choosing to stare at my fingers instead. I wasn't stupid. I could put two and two together and make four. Sometimes I even managed to make five. I was quite pleased with myself when that happened. I caught the hint of movement from Daniel, and knew he was just itching to interject with a comment, but Thor beat him to it.  
  
"Come on, Jack. Cut the crap and admit you're worried."  
  
I lifted my head to find my friend smiling at me. I could only nod.  
  
"Come on then, lets get out of here." A touch of his wrist and we were on the Asgard flagship. I could just imagine the stunned, but resigned faces of the others as once more I was abducted by aliens.  
  
So much for weighing the pros and cons!  
  
"Thor!" My indignant cry filled the silence. I clutched the hospital gown at the back. "Get me some pants!"  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
It was five more days before I was back behind my desk at the SGC once more. The second Ancient's download had, as I had suspected all along, hot- wired my brain. The healing power had kicked in at the slightest hint of a hangnail, Ferretti's leg being the final straw. With the ability came the annoying complication of being able to cause random power fluctuations, Useful if I ever wanted to blow up a toaster in the heat of battle, but too unpredictable to be of any use otherwise. Apparently the little synapses in my brain had gone all giggly and shivery at the thought of more input. No wonder I had been constantly feeling cold.  
  
Once they had pinpointed the problem, the Asgard medics had made a simple adjustment, dampening the effects. No more Super Jack, with the power to heal, but also no longer likely to plunge the whole top half of the United States into darkness. There was still plenty left of the download, exactly how much it was hard to say.  
  
I still played a mean game of pool, and I suspected the Canadians wouldn't be holding onto that shooting trophy for much longer.  
  
The sorting out of my problem had only been the tip of the iceberg. It had taken two days to fix me, and another three to make the Asgard agree to leave Thor alone. The Supreme Commander's admittedly annoying sarcasm and very bad sense of humour was not life threatening. He was not a danger to anyone. If anything, his acceptance of the need to take risks and his newly developed lateral thinking would be assets to the Asgard.  
  
It had just taken me a lot of talking to convince them.  
  
It was only after Thor and I won the whole of the planet Othalla in poker against Myton and a couple of their top scientists that they caved in and agreed to live with the changes.  
  
Then they sent me back without even a by-your-leave.  
  
I rematerialised in my office.  
  
And groaned.  
  
Whatever happened to the concept of a paperless office?  
  
So with no x-ray vision left with which to fry the mountain of files on my desk, I sat down and got back to the work of running the SGC.  
  
The End


	5. Pandora's Box

  
  
Spoilers: Numerous episodes up to Season Eight  
  
Pandora's Box  
  
  
It was shaping up to being another quiet day at the office, when Daniel called. The sound of his voice through the MALP was thin and tinny, as if it was coming from millions of miles away. Maybe because it was.  
  
SG-1 was on another one of those routine missions that had so often ended in disaster when I had been leading them, but for some reason, once Carter had taken over the reins, tended to go like clockwork. The ruins on PXC-886 had looked interesting even to my jaded eyes, the large columns toppled one on top of the other reminding me of a trip to Athens I had made too many years ago to count. Concentrated as they were, in one small corner of a high plateau, they looked amazingly like the Parthenon, even down to the dominant temple looking structure in the middle of the complex.  
  
I had farewelled the four members of SG-1, Carter's nice new Lieutenant Colonel silver oak leaves shining on her shoulders, and stood for a few minutes watching as the wormhole shut down, before heading back to my office.  
  
Now, only an hour later, Daniel was asking for help.  
  
"No, Daniel. I don't have time to look at the inscriptions." I could feel the eyes of the Control Room staff on me as I bent over the microphone, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice.  
  
"Okay, Jack. I understand."  
  
That didn't seem right. Was this the Daniel I knew so well? Where were the arguments, the persuasion, the whining?  
  
What would it hurt to take a quick look at some Ancient writing? It wasn't like I had anything important to do. Or at least anything I considered more important – the Joint Chiefs might disagree. I bent back down to the mic.  
  
"I've changed my mind, Daniel. Send it through and I'll see if I can read it."  
  
There was a pause, and then a pleased sound, somewhat like a yelp, followed by Daniel's voice.  
  
"Thanks, Jack. I'm sending now."  
  
I turned to the screen, seeing the blurred image sharpen up as the focus was adjusted. The script was carved into a stone near the base of a plinth, and ran round the corner and out of sight.  
  
It was probably a recipe for fried chicken.  
  
"Can you get closer?"  
  
The camera moved, bringing the letters into sharper relief, and I settled into the seat, pen in hand.  
  
"Coffee, sir?" I nodded a thanks, and took the proffered mug, idly sipping the hot liquid as I worked.  
  
Nope. Wasn't a recipe. Looked more like a...  
  
Oh damn!  
  
"Carter! Get everyone home – NOW!"  
  
There was barely time to register sounds of confusion, before the transmission ended with a hiss of static.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
"Begging the General's pardon, but you can't go." Colonel Harper looked like he was about to have a heart attack. I ignored him, zipping my radio into its pocket. "Sir!"  
  
I raised my head and glared up at him. "I haven't got time for this, Colonel. I've called the President. He was in a meeting. I've left a message. When he returns my call, tell him I couldn't wait and explain the situation." I stood and picked up my pack, swinging it up and on to my back. He followed me down the corridor, protesting all the way. I could see his point. I really could.  
  
But I could ignore it just as easily.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
The silhouette of the ruins showed up starkly against the rapidly setting sun, the red light giving the whole scene a decidedly eerie feeling.  
  
Ferretti gave rapid fire orders, making sure the DHD was undamaged, and that there were no hostiles in the vicinity of the gate. I was aware of his actions, but focussed most of my attention on the temple a few hundred metres away. I knew what I would find, even as I crunched my way across the gravel strewn ground.  
  
Nothing.  
  
I felt Lou's hand on my arm, holding me back.  
  
"Sir, I'll go first." It wasn't a suggestion. I was a non-combatant now and the Colonel was treating me as such. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but I paused and let him enter the building first.  
  
The interior was dark, our torches the only light, but I didn't need much light to do what I had to. The inscriptions around the base of the column had told me where my team was, and that I was the only one able to rescue them. They were a warning, a "Do Not Trespass" sign, if you will. And naturally, SG-1 had trespassed. They were okay, or as okay as you can be locked in what was to all intents and purposes an alien holding cell, but only one person could get them out.  
  
Me.  
  
I moved swiftly to the altar like stone at the end of the gloomy aisle, my gaze already searching for the correct combination of panels to press. Lou hovered protectively at my elbow and I knew the rest of his team were watching from the doorway, but I ignored them, placing my palms on two panels marked with the Ancient symbols.  
  
Pressing, I shut my eyes and concentrated as hard as I could, hoping like hell that I still had enough of the Ancient ability in me to do what I had to do. My hands moved, seemingly of their own volition, words from that long forgotten language flowing from me. Warmth crept from my fingertips, up along my arms and into my chest, and I felt my heart pounding with the energy I required for the task. The whole process probably only took about five minutes, but it felt so much longer, long enough that my legs had begun to tremble and only my hands on the stone were holding me up.  
  
Slowly I let my grip loosen, seeing Ferretti had moved a little further from me than he had been originally. I gave him a reassuring grin and was about to suggest we move outside when there was a excited shout from one of his men who had been keeping guard at the door.  
  
"Sir, they're here."  
  
And there they were. Carter, Daniel, Teal'c and Evans, sitting in a large transparent box just tall enough for them to stand up in.  
  
It would have been comical if it hadn't been so serious. You see, I was the only one who could have brought them back into phase with our time, and the only one who could open the lid. The Ancient device had trapped them like bugs in a jar, only able to be freed and sent home by one of that long dead race. It would have meant a long, slow death for my friends.  
  
Now I just needed to release the lock. The possibility for endless jokes at Daniel's expense made me smile as I reached forward.  
  
It was then that the world blew apart.

xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Several Goa'uld motherships, whole battalions of Jaffa warriors, and hundreds of deathgliders can have that effect.  
  
The rumbling, shaking, and zooming that filled the air reminded me of an old movie about World War Two, except these weren't our boys storming the beaches. I took one look at what was heading our way, and snapped the lock on the box.  
  
"Get in!"  
  
Colonel Ferretti didn't hesitate. He practically threw his Lieutenant through the opening, leaving him floundering to stay upright. The other two SG-2 members followed suit, and I don't know which of us pushed who, but Lou & I came in the opening together. I slammed the door shut behind us just as the first staff weapon blast hit the surface of the box.  
  
"Jack! What the hell is going on?" Daniel extracted himself from behind Lieutenant Cartwright, rubbing his head. The addition of so many extra bodies made for a tight squeeze, but at least we all fitted.  
  
"We're being attacked and this is the only place we will be safe."  
  
"And where exactly is here, Jack?" Daniel was sounding ever so peeved. I suppose being stuck in a box for an hour or so, having it opened, but having the door shut again before you can leave, just might be a little vexing.  
  
I tried not to wince as blasts resounded across the whole surface of our little prison. "It's a bug catcher, Daniel. And before you ask – yes, you are the bug." From the look on his face, I didn't think he was happy with my explanation, so I shrugged. "Okay, kiddies, let's all get comfortable while Uncle Jack tells you a story."  
  
I waited until they had all managed to find space to sit, or at least prop themselves against the walls. Teal'c and Ferretti remained standing, ever alert, and I got the distinct impression that my presence was a good part of the reason why I wouldn't say the others were relaxed – the faces of the Jaffa staring in at us weren't easy to ignore, but Ferretti's two newbies exchanged glances and a little of the tension eased from them, just as I had planned.  
  
"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away."  
  
"Ah, sir. Have we got time for this?" Carter was looking very apprehensively at the troops converging on our position, but I was pleased to hear a slight snigger from the direction of Captain Evans. I knew I liked that man.  
  
"I'll give you the Cliff Notes version if you want, Carter, but you'll miss out on most of the characterisation."  
  
From Daniel's groan of frustration, I gathered brevity wasn't an issue, so I nodded, and took a seat cross legged in front of them, trying to pretend it was comfortable and that my knee wasn't screaming at me to get up.  
  
The irony of Daniel groaning at one of my explanations, instead of the other way around, wasn't lost on me. I began – speaking slightly louder to make myself heard over the shouts from outside.  
  
"From what I could read of the inscription Daniel sent me via the MALP, this is the site of an experimental transportation system the Ancients were developing. They didn't want any other races fooling with it, so put up a warning notice at the entrance to the main building. Anyone who wasn't suppose to be here was isolated safely in this trap until an Ancient came and dealt with them."  
  
"Dealt with them? How?" Ferretti looked nervously around as if he was about to be hit by bug spray.  
  
"As far as I could tell, they would be transported back to their home world."  
  
"Should we be concerned about the activity currently occurring around us, O'Neill?"  
  
At Teal'c's words I stood, moving to the side of our enclosure. I have to admit the sight that met my eyes was pretty spectacular. We were completely surrounded by what appeared to be the entire combined forces of the System Lords, with several First Primes glaring at us through the transparent wall. Repeated staff blasts sent sparks rebounding off the surface and back at the Jaffa who shot them, sending a couple to the ground with smoking holes in their armour.  
  
I placed my palms on the 'glass' and smiled sweetly out. "Don't worry guys. This box was designed to keep the occupants perfectly safe until they were released. There is nothing anyone out there can do to us."  
  
"That's fine, Jack." Daniel stood and joined me at the wall. "But how are we going to get out now that our 'Ancient' is in here with us bugs?"  
  
The distinctive sound of transporter rings drowned out the beginning of my answer. Multiple transporter rings. What I wouldn't have given for a nuclear missile strike right then.  
  
So much gold in one place can be very stressful on the eyes, the glare enough to make a blind guy blink, even at night, so I pulled my trusty sunglasses from my pocket and put them on.  
  
"Hi, guys. Long time no see."  
  
"We have never met before, Tau'ri." Some young whippersnapper of a Goa'uld was the first to answer, his eyes glowing in the darkness. "I am Churlon."  
  
I waited, but it didn't come.  
  
I had to ask.  
  
"Okay, what happened to the 'bow before your god' line, Churly? Mind if I call you Churly? Because it seems to suit you, with that pissed off look and all."  
  
A figure moved out from behind the others, a sneer on his arrogant face – one I recognised.  
  
"We do not want you to bow before us, O'Neill. We just want to see you die, along with your companions."  
  
I broadened my smile. "Zippy! Good to see you. How have things been? How's the family?"  
  
Zipacna scowled in at me. I was glad to see he'd lost that ridiculous headdress thing, and gone with the standard over the top gold robes.  
  
"Silence! You will surrender yourself to us."  
  
Turning my back on him, I gave my fellow inmates a questioning look.  
  
"What do you think, kids? Do you want to go play with these guys, or do you want to go home now it's dark and way past your bedtime?"  
  
"I would prefer to return to the SGC, O'Neill. I do not wish to 'play' with these Goa'uld." Teal'c gave me one of his patented eyebrow quirks and continued. "I assume you have the means to achieve this?"  
  
The younger members of the group – Evans, and Ferretti's men, were all looking just a little pale, and I realised this was probably the first time they had really come up against the so-called might of the System Lords.  
  
"Sure I can, Teal'c. No problemo." I hoped my confidence wasn't misplaced, because if it were we would be so deeply in the shit that I didn't even want to think about it. I started across the floor towards the opposite side, careful not to step on any legs. It was only a few seconds before I stopped. "Okay kids, you have permission to stand up so I can get through."  
  
The resulting movement cleared a path for me and I continued on my way, ignoring Daniel's mutter of "Gee, thanks Jack, as if I needed your permission to stand." He was SO going to get grounded when we got home.  
  
"Sir?" Carter stood beside me, her voice low. "Don't you think it's a little too much of a coincidence that the Goa'uld turned up on this planet at the same time we did? Daniel found no evidence of any Goa'uld presence here before now. Maybe we should try and find out why they're here?"  
  
Thinking about it, she was right, it did seem too much of a coincidence.  
  
"What do you suggest, Colonel?"  
  
"We could always get Daniel to talk to them. After all, it is part of his job description, sir."  
  
"Oh! Job description! Do you think I have a job description, Carter?"  
  
"You could do, sir. It probably says something about never going offworld."  
  
At that point I conceded defeat, giving Carter a dirty look and edged over to Daniel, one eye on the assembled enemy. They were bringing up the big guns, and I meant that literally. I hoped I was right about the impervious nature of the Ancient's trap, because those weapons looked like they meant business.  
  
"Want to do your thing, Daniel? See if you can find out what brought them here?" He nodded, watching the huge canon being aimed, its barrel pointing directly at us. Not that I was worried or anything, but..."Now might be a good time."  
  
He raised his voice loudly enough to catch the attention of the group of Goa'uld rapidly retreating from the line of fire.  
  
"Excuse me. Can I just ask one question?"  
  
The gaggle of Goa'ulds stopped, turning as one. The echoing tone of a female snake called a command and the cannon halted its movements. The speaker then came towards us, the hem of her robes raising small puffs of dust from the ground as she walked.  
  
"I am Kali." I saw Daniel flinch slightly, and remembered his report on the Goa'uld summit. Kali had been there, and had obviously left an impression of my friend. "What is your question?"  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Killing Tau'ri." There were several laughs from the group at this comment. Goa'uld humour – gotta love it.  
  
I'll give Daniel points for calmness though. He didn't even hesitate with his response. "How did you know we would be here?"  
  
Kali smiled. A smile that made me think of an old expression of my grandfather's – she looked like she'd eat her children.  
  
"That is a second question, Doctor Jackson. I only said I would answer one."  
  
"Why not tell him, Kali. Let the knowledge of their betrayal be the last words O'Neill and his companions hear."  
  
Betrayal?  
  
Kali didn't look at the speaker, merely exchanging a nod with Zipacna before answering.  
  
"You are right, Olokun." She stepped closer, until her lovely body was pressed against the 'glass', so close to mine that it was almost as if we touched. She lowered her voice, and spoke in a seductive whisper. "It was you, O'Neill. We came for you. The rest don't matter. As soon as we were told you were offworld and vulnerable, we came. It should flatter you to know your death has brought together so many rival System Lords for the sole purpose of destroying one Tau'ri."  
  
I spoke in the same tone, knowing the others were straining to hear. "How did you know I was offworld?"  
  
She smiled again. "You have many enemies, O'Neill, and not just amongst the Goa'uld. Your own race betrayed you. Our spy in your SGC informed us the moment you set foot through the chappa'ai. We have been waiting long for this day, and he will be richly rewarded when your planet falls to us."  
  
I didn't allow my surprise to show. A spy at the SGC. It was imperative that we got back home and found the traitor. If only we knew who.  
  
I had to keep Kali talking. Any clue she gave us was valuable.  
  
"You can't harm us in here, Kali." I spoke loudly, the Goa'uld language making my voice as arrogant as any snakehead's. "We are safe from your weapons. You have played into my hands, just as your so-called spy. We have been feeding him false information for months." The flash of the Gou'uld's eyes betrayed her surprise, both at my words and the use of her own language. I heard murmurs from the others, several heads bending to others, as they became more agitated. "Oh, come now, you didn't believe the reports, did you? Did you have no doubts?"  
  
I could have heard a pin drop from the others in the box with me as they listened to my speech. I knew Daniel was the only one able to understand me, but no one interrupted.  
  
"I told you not to trust him so much. Did I not tell you the tales of O'Neill's healing powers were patently ridiculous?" Churlon pushed his way back to the front, raised himself to his full height, and glared down at Kali.  
  
To my stunned amazement, my ruse had worked, the answer making me reel with its implication. Now we just needed to get back to the SGC.  
  
Ignoring the now furious Goa'uld, I raced over to the far wall, pressing against it at waist height. As the panel, flashing with crystals, was exposed, I heard a shout go up from a voice I recognised as Zipacna's.  
  
"General, they're going to fire the canon." Carter sounded remarkably calm under the circumstances.  
  
I didn't take time to answer. I had to concentrate.  
  
"Jack!"  
  
Shit, Daniel, now was not the time to distract me!  
  
The combination I needed to press and turn came into my mind with the flash of a lightning strike, and I saw my hands blurring with the speed at which I move.  
  
The hum of the transportation system harmonised with the roar of the canon as it fired. I had time to catch the flash of my companions disappearing in a ball of green light, before I too was flung from that place.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Waking up on hard, compacted dirt, wrapped half around the thick trunk of a tree, with a headache the size of the Grand Canyon, is not one of my favourite things to do on a bright sunny morning.  
  
And bright and sunny it was.  
  
Not the Gate Room. Nosireebob.  
  
Not unless the SGC had got into environmental issues in a big way since I was there last. Somehow I didn't think the Air Force would spring for the cost of planting the Gate Room with dense, yellow trees.  
  
I raised myself up on one elbow and looked around.  
  
Alone.  
  
No one in sight. Or at least as far as I could tell, given the number of trees within a few feet on where I lay.  
  
Crap.  
  
This wasn't meant to happen. The transporter should have sent us all home.  
  
God, I hoped the others were safe, and not scattered about the galaxy like flotsam.  
  
I had to find out where I was, see if the others were here.  
  
I tried to pull myself away from the tree and stand.  
  
It was then that it hit me. As I lay there, uselessly.  
  
I couldn't feel my legs.  
  
I was SO screwed.  
  
TBC


	6. Hope Escapes

Hope Escapes  
  
  
Extracting myself from a yellow tree with sharp nasty little spiky branches without benefit of legs, just confirmed to me why I HATED TREES.  
  
Having finally freed myself from the clutches of the 'The Day of the Triffids' extra, I checked myself out. Apart from blurred vision, a great honking headache probably resulting from the bump on the back of my head, and a distressing inability to even twitch some very important parts of my body, everything was fine.  
  
Elbows I could do, so I made a complete reconnaissance of the immediate area.  
  
Trees, trees everywhere nor any drop to drink.  
  
Very amusing. Or it would be if it weren't so true. I had very limited choices. One – lie here and wait for rescue. Two – crawl around and rescue myself, hopefully running across some water while doing so.  
  
There was a three.  
  
Fall asleep.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
I thought you weren't meant to sleep with head injuries?  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Oh crap!  
  
That is like, just...ewwwww!  
  
One aspect of paralysis that reared its ugly head while I was asleep.  
  
Now I really did need to find some water.  
  
Crawling. Crawling.  
  
Ewwwww! Okay – have to stop doing that, Jack. It's not like you've had anything to eat or drink.  
  
Crawling. Crawling. Crawl....  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Now it's night and hey, guess what! I can't damn well sleep. I suppose it was all those naps I kept taking. I've gone miles. I'm sure I have. Must have.  
  
Right.  
  
I'll formulate a plan.  
  
First objective – water.  
  
Second – find a stargate. There has to be one somewhere. If you are experimenting with new transporter technology, you have to leave yourself an alternative means of travel. Don't you? Of course, it's probably in the equivalent of Antarctica.  
  
That nifty healing power would have come in handy right now, but no, I had to lose it just in time to leave myself totally helpless. And all this crawling wasn't doing my legs any good at all.  
  
I was lucky I still had my pack, because the cuts on my legs from the stones I had travelled across all day needed to be cleaned, even if I couldn't feel them. The shredded and soiled pants took when seemed hours to get off, but I finally managed it and did what little I could to doctor myself. Then I forced myself to choke down an energy bar, and took a few careful mouthfuls of water from my canteen, swallowing a couple of painkillers along with it. Then I got out my sleeping bag, unzipped it, and wrapped myself in it as tightly as possible.  
  
Forget keeping watch for natives.  
  
Forget staying awake with a concussion.  
  
I was going to sleep, and when I woke up, everything would sort itself out.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
I woke with a much clearer head, and the realisation that using my sleeping bag when I had absolutely no control over my basic bodily functions was not the cleverest idea I had ever had.  
  
It was time to get my act together.  
  
I started by doing what I should have done the day before, if I had been thinking more clearly. I switched my radio on and sent a message across all frequencies. No reply but static.  
  
Then I tried the next obvious thing.  
  
"Help!"  
  
Ten minutes, and a sore throat later, I came to the conclusion that there was no one within hearing range of my voice.  
  
I did a proper survey of my injuries, finding a large swelling on the middle of my back, down near my waist. There didn't seem to be any open wounds so I rebandaged my legs and used some strips from a spare T-shirt to tie them together as tightly as possible. I then wrapped the sleeping bag around my lower body, using some duct tape to attach it. Not only would it protect me from further injury for a while, there was no way I was going to be covering myself with that bag any time soon, especially the way it smelled..  
  
Preparations made, I took my compass from my jacket pocket, and crossing my fingers this planet had a magnetic field similar to that of Earth, worked out a heading. With a few skinned elbows, I set off to see what there was to see.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Day six on Planet Monotonous dawned just the same as the others. On the plus side, I had found a stream and managed to not drown myself while washing some of the muck off. I'd even had a go at cleaning my sleeping bag, napping on a warm rock at the side of the water while it dried enough to be usable. I decided to make camp there for a few days, and see if the rest did me any good.  
  
Because if it didn't, I knew I was in big trouble.  
  
And now it was lunchtime, and I was down to my last MRE.  
  
It was then that the pain began.  
  
At first it was just a few twinges. Twinges that made me almost delirious with excitement. They were the first feelings I'd had below the waist for almost a week. I poked and prodded my legs, trying to find exactly where the pain from coming from, but it was elusive, seemingly moving just as my fingers found the spot. After a while, the sensation vanished  
  
Still, it was a positive sign.  
  
Wasn't it?  
  
A few hours later, I wondered why I had ever thought pain to be something positive. Every muscle in my legs spasmed violently as the numbness wore off. Then the cuts and bruises I had inflicted on my body made themselves known with an agony that would have been wonderful if it wasn't so damned terrible.  
  
I lost my breakfast when the stomach cramps began.  
  
Several hours later, and on the other side of dawn, I lay like a wrung out towel, flexing my left foot and watching the movement of my boot with a fascination normally reserved for hockey matches.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Day eight on Planet Monotonous, and I was just about able to walk twenty yards without stumbling. My progress had been slow, and all dexterity hadn't yet returned, but I was positive it would. One big plus was that certain muscles seemed to be back to normal and I didn't have the need to wash myself down every hour or so. So now, clean clothes, sleeping bag rolled up and stowed away, P-90 in hand instead of looped across my back, and the body of a freshly trapped furry creature hanging from my belt, and Jack O'Neill was on a mission.  
  
To reach the top of that big hill in the far distance.  
  
The general climbed over the mountain, the general climbed over the mountain, the general climbed over the mountain, to see what he could see.  
  
I sang and staggered, staggered and sang.  
  
Wonder what's going on back at the SGC. I was sure Carter and the others got sent home. I was certain of it. I had to be, or there would really be no point in continuing.  
  
The general climbed over the mountain and what do you think he saw?  
  
Climbing down the other side was more of a semi controlled roll, but it sure was quicker than the getting up the top had been. I dusted myself off and shook the grass from my hair, only needing to steady myself with one hand against one of those ever present yellow trees while I did so.  
  
The ruins were small by Ancient standards, somewhat like a miniaturised version of the ones we had left in the hands of the Goa'uld, but they were in good repair. I headed for the building in the middle of a small square, once obviously flagged by even stones, but now a sea of waving greenery that reminded me much too much of that psychedelic lettuce back on that moon I was stranded on with Maybourne.  
  
My heart began pounding when I saw the lines of inscription circling the columns and weaving up the steps at the front of the building, and it wasn't because of exhaustion. I rubbed a hand across my tired eyes, and started reading.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
It had been my fault.  
  
I sipped the coffee and gnawed at the bone in my other hand, the glow from the fire warming my freezing hands. The weather had gotten steadily colder these last few days and I was glad for the warmth of my sleeping bag wrapped around my shoulders.  
  
My reading had been very informative, leading me to the small device now lying next to me by the fire after thousands of years hidden behind a panel. A users manual for the new transporters. And an explanation of why they had been abandoned.  
  
I had been right – the others were all safely back home – or I was as certain as I could be that they were. The transporter in the trap was set to send trespassers back to wherever they wanted to go, a destination found by scanning their minds. Whatever it had found in my mind must have confused it, maybe it was the remnants of the Ancient download, maybe it was a decided lack of enthusiasm for the paperwork waiting for me when I got back to my office, maybe it was the thoughts of no more gate travel, but the machine had sent me not home, but to a 'safehouse'. The next step would have been a welcoming committee, ready and willing to work out the correct destination of any traveller.  
  
Unfortunately the welcome committee had shut up shop and gone home untold years before, carelessly leaving their unpredictable technology lying around for anyone to find, their landing platforms overgrown with trees just waiting to leap out and attack unsuspecting visitors.  
  
There was one other thing I had found out. The Stargate on this planet was on another continent across miles of ocean. Now I could make like Thor Heyerdahl and build a raft, or I could work out how to make the transporter here operate.  
  
Not a hard choice.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Day twelve on Planet Monotonous and the lettuce was starting to look very appealing. The small furry animals trembled at the sight of General Jack O'Neill, mighty hunter.  
  
I would give anything for a bowl of fruit loops.  
  
Or I could just eat the lettuce and maybe go fruit loopy.  
  
But it would be fun.  
  
I bent back to my task, the symbols within the panel now changed from dull, flat brown, to a glowing gold. A few more adjustments, my hands moving by instinct alone, and it was ready.  
  
I gathered up my stuff, washing in a nearby pool, and shaving carefully, before putting on my last set of clean trousers. A last look around to check I had forgotten nothing, and I was as prepared as I ever would be.  
  
So why did I hesitate?  
  
Even if I didn't get home, surely anywhere was better than being stuck here for the rest of my life?  
  
I stepped up on the platform, its surface raised barely an inch above the surrounding stones, but still I hesitated.  
  
What if I got sent back to the planet I had come from, and straight into the welcoming arms of the System Lords?  
  
What if I found myself back across the mountain, wrapped around the same tree?  
  
I concentrated, trying to clear my mind of distractions.  
  
I thought of Earth. Of the clear water in front of my cabin. Of the sunset from my window at home. Of the faces of my friends. I thought of the spy hidden amongst us.  
  
There's no place like home. There's no place like home.  
  
I locked those memories down deep and pressed the buttons.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Okaaaay!  
  
This was different.  
  
Ouch! Crap!  
  
Whatever that was I just walked into was almost as hard and sharp as those damned triffid trees. The jolt sent my right leg trembling and I reached a hand out to catch myself before I fell. My shaky limbs were barely up to climbing a few steps, let alone fumbling around in the pitch darkness.  
  
I groped with my other hand, trying to work out where I was just by the feel of the thing I was holding so tightly onto.  
  
Hard, unyielding, and cold. Not a rock, much too smooth to be a rock. It was smooth enough to be probably man – or alien – made. I moved my hand cautiously along the edge, running my fingertips over they came to a sharp right angle turn. All right. It was definitely not natural. More boldly, I stretched out and felt across the top of its surface. My hand hit a ...  
  
TV remote?  
  
That was one object I could recognise with my eye shut.  
  
What the hell?  
  
I picked it up, pressed the operate button, and turned slowly with it extended in front of me.  
  
I was probably activating some Ancient technology that would leap up and bite me in the ass.  
  
A soft click and sudden light.  
  
Oh for crying out loud! Sesame Street! I already knew what words started with the letter 'C", thank you very much.  
  
Cabin. That was one.  
  
My cabin.  
  
I was standing in the middle of the main room, holding on to the table for dear life and staring at a large fluffy bird talking to some kid.  
  
After my initial stunned surprise, I realised how logical it was. The Ancient transporter sent the user to wherever he wanted to go. So here I was, surrounded by the peace and tranquillity of a Minnesota night, with everything I needed right at my fingertips. It was a matter of moments before I was back on the old comfortable lounge chair, feet up on the coffee table, cold beer in hand.  
  
Life was good.  
  
Life was also shouting at me to pay attention.  
  
With a sigh, I snapped up the phone with my free hand, mentally running through my options. Calling the SGC was out. The last thing I wanted was news of my return to get back to the spy. No – there was only one person I could rely on to handle this correctly.  
  
I dialled, hoping like hell he was home. But at three in the morning, where else would he be? Living it up in the Washington nightclubs? I didn't think so.  
  
At the sound of the sleepy voice that answered the phone, a hint of annoyance hiding behind a professional concern, I let out a breath I hadn't even known I was holding.  
  
"Hammond."  
  
"George, it's me, Jack O'Neill."  
  
His answer confirmed that I had made the right choice.  
  
"Prove it."  
  
"What, like I did back in 1969? I don't really have time to do that, George." I paused, hearing only a soft breath from the other end of the line. "Here's the problem. There's a Goa'uld spy in the SGC, so any communication with the base is compromised. I'm the only one who knows who that spy is, and as far as they are concerned I'm lost somewhere offworld. Well, I'm not, I'm back, and I want to get that snakehead loving bastard off my base."  
  
Hammond's calm tones interrupted what was fast becoming me losing it big time. "Well, you certainly sound like Jack O'Neill."  
  
"I'm as much Jack O'Neill as I'll ever be, George. Now I don't think we want too many people to know I'm back, so what say you meet me here and debrief me. I'm at my cabin"  
  
"Your cabin?" I could almost see the frown of puzzlement on his face. "All right, son. You stay put, and I'll be there as soon as possible."  
  
I finished the conversation and walked stiffly to my bedroom, falling fully dressed onto the bed. The last thing I heard was the sound of wind in the trees, and I gave thanks that they weren't yellow.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
I was showered and changed into an old pair of jeans and a shirt I normally wore for fishing by the time General Hammond showed up. I answered the knock to find a pistol shoved in my face and the unsmiling features of Major Paul Davis glaring at me suspiciously. It was no more than I would have expected, given the circumstances, so I made myself relax, and not disarm him, easy though it would have been,  
  
It didn't take long to convince them I was who I said I was, and although the doctor accompanying them took a sample to test my DNA, it was obvious they were satisfied. The Special Forces team put away their weapons and took up position outside, plainly wondering what all the fuss was about, leaving only George, Davis, and the doctor inside.  
  
I eyed the doctor out of the corner of my eye, startled by her remarkable resemblance to Janet Fraiser. Her brown hair was tied severely back, but her eyes held a twinkle missing from those of Doctor Roberts.  
  
"General O'Neill, I don't think you've meet Doctor Smith." Hammond made the introduction a little late considering she had just had her hand inside my mouth.  
  
I smiled. "Doctor, pleased to met you."  
  
She seemed a little uncertain and I wondered just how much she had been told, but Hammond must trust her or she wouldn't be here.  
  
"Do you have any injuries, sir? I noticed a few scratches on your hands." Her voice was soft, and very doctor-like. Or at least the Marcus Welby kind of doctor I remembered from the TV shows of my youth.  
  
I wasn't sure how to respond, but my unspoken question was answered by George. "She knows you've been offworld, Jack, and has full clearance, so what say you let her examine you while you explain what's going on."  
  
I nodded. It was not a request, it was an order.  
  
I sent Major Davis into the kitchen to made us all coffee, and stripped down to my boxers, finding it a little distracting to be telling my tale while a warm hand was poking at me. I was up to the part where I had worked out who the spy was, when the doctor interrupted.  
  
"What's this bruise on your back from, sir?"  
  
"Must have been where I hit the tree. I would have thought it would have gone by now." I was about to continue speaking, when a stab of pain hit me, and I found myself hanging off the ceiling by my fingernails. Well, that was what it felt like anyway. In reality I just screeched like a banshee and felt like throwing up.  
  
"Sir?" The Special Forces Colonel stuck his head cautiously through the doorway, his weapon at the ready.  
  
"It's all right, Colonel. Nothing to worry about."  
  
That's easy for you to say, General, I thought as I shut my eyes and tried to swallow back the nausea.  
  
"Something you'd like to tell me, General?"  
  
Just how did these doctors make you feel like you've done something wrong with one question?  
  
"I hit a tree when I landed."  
  
"Landed, Jack?"  
  
I came clean. I told them everything, trying to sip the coffee Paul had made and ignore the evil looks being thrown at me by the woman. George had been stunned at my revelations of my paralysis, and I'd been hard pressed to stop him calling an ambulance on the spot. I convinced him that I was almost back to normal, but it was some time before he stopped casting concerned looks at me whenever he thought I wasn't looking. Then slowly the looks turned to ones of anger, as he realised the full implications of the information I was giving him. By the end of it, fully dressed once more, I knew I was in deep, deep trouble.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
The Mountain was under lock down. No one was going in or out, and my trap was set.  
  
I moved silently through the corridors, accompanied by the same Special Forces team who had been at my cabin, General Hammond and Major Davis following behind.  
  
I hadn't even needed to argue with George. He knew there was no way someone else was going to finish this, not while I had breath in my body.  
  
He never saw it coming. The look on his face would have made me smile if I wasn't so incandescently angry.  
  
I grabbed him, spinning him round and out of his office chair, and shoved him up against the wall, with as much force as I could muster. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make him pale and hold his hands in front of his face as if warding off a blow. I wasn't going to hit him. I didn't need to. Seeing him cower in front of me and know he had been exposed was reward enough. And it was certain that he knew he had been found out. You could see it in his face with just once glance.  
  
Roberts didn't need to confess. His guilt was there for all to see.  
  
I let the SF Colonel take him, and watched without speaking as Davis led the way back to the surface.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
I had always known it would be the Debriefing From Hell and it lived up to my every expectation. The only thing I hadn't been prepared for was that it would be held in the infirmary with me in a hospital bed.  
  
SG-1 were there, and Ferretti, albeit watching and listening from the far corner of the small room. Generals Hammond and Vidrine held centre stage as I went over everything that had happened once again. I explained that the only people who knew about my healing ability were my team, Bra'tac, and Doctor Roberts, so when the Goa'uld had spoken openly about it, it was clear who the spy was. I refused to believe it was any of my team, and I knew Bra'tac would die rather than give the Goa'uld any information. That only left one person.  
  
Roberts.  
  
The problem was that he had to have had help. He had been given access to information about me that even his friendship with McKenzie didn't explain. There was someone else behind him, feeding his greed, someone or some group powerful enough to think they were impervious to the Goa'uld. Who or what it was we could only guess, with no evidence to link Roberts with anyone. We ruled out the NID – their teeth had been well and truly pulled and the organisation left in the wake of the exposure of their leaders seemed to be working with us rather than against us. I didn't fully trust them yet, but I didn't think they had either the power or the desire to help plant a Goa'uld spy at the SGC.  
  
Roberts had made a confession, but refused to give us any information about his backers. We could only conclude that he was a dupe, paid well to get rid of me by any means necessary.  
  
I had been confined to bed by the good Doctor Smith, who explained just how lucky I had been to recover so well from the injury to my spine. The bruising had been extensive, but the swelling had gone down, probably helped by those long soaks in the nice warm stream back on the planet. Resting there for those days had also been the right thing to do, allowing time for my spine to recover. If I had continued to push myself as I had in those first couple of days, I would probably have never regained the full use of my legs.  
  
I was very lucky, and I knew it.  
  
I wasn't going to argue about the enforced bed rest. I would be happy with nothing less than one hundred percent fitness.  
  
Lucky in one way, but not in others.  
  
Hammond and Vidrine had listened quietly, asking questions in all the right places. Then they had dismissed everyone from the room, telling them they wanted to speak with me alone.  
  
I had some explaining to do. Like why I hadn't reported the healing ability.  
  
I could only tell them the truth.  
  
"I didn't want to end up dissected in some back room in Area 51."  
  
Hammond looked at Vidrine, and Vidrine looked at Hammond. Neither of them would look at me. They knew I was right. They knew nothing could have protected me once the news had got out, and got out it would have. I was only lucky the person who did find out had told the Goa'uld and not our own people.  
  
Sometimes I think the Goa'uld have nothing on my own countrymen.  
  
I promised I had no other secrets hidden away in this unpredictable brain of mine, and agreed to a full examination and evaluation by Commander Coates, the Pentagon doctor in charge of my case.  
  
Which left one tiny little thing.  
  
My going offworld without permission.  
  
Sure there was precedence for it. Hammond himself had defied orders to rescue us from Hathor, but that didn't make it right.  
  
I knew that, Vidrine knew that, and Hammond knew that.  
  
I was prepared to take my punishment like a man.  
  
I just wasn't prepared for what it was,  
  
My ability to run the SGC was being questioned up where the air was very thin. The base had run like clockwork while I had been missing. Under the watchful eye of General Vidrine, Colonel Harper had done a fine job.  
  
Damn him!  
  
I had to justify General Jumper's faith in me. Prove that promoting me and giving me full command hadn't been an error in judgment.  
  
I was being transferred to Washington as soon as my convalescence was over. How long the posting would be for depended on my performance.  
  
I saw the pity in Hammond's eyes as he left my room, and softly shut the door behind him.  
  
I had lost it.  
  
After all these months, all the blood I'd shed for this place, it had been taken away from me with the sweep of a pen.  
  
And there was nothing I could do about it.  
  



	7. Keeping a Low Profile

Keeping a Low Profile

  
  
I fingered the collar of my shirt, and tried to decide if anyone would notice if I took my tie off, just for a bit. It wasn't like there was anyone who cared what I looked like, sitting here in this boxy office deep in the bowels of the Pentagon.  
  
Better not risk it, I didn't want another black mark against my name in that thick file the Air Force already had on me.  
  
I sighed, pulling Lightbulb Request Form 132A subsection 24C towards me. The fact that there was a request form for lightbulbs was bewildering enough, let alone that they needed a general to sign it, although I suppose when you considered how many dollars were spent by us on them every year, it was only to be expected. Just like the form for pens, and the one for paperclips, and the one for printers, and the one for shoelaces.  
  
Ahhhhhhh!  
  
I was going crazier by the second. I was sure most of this paperwork could just as easily be done by a clerk. I knew I deserved punishment, but this was cruel and unusual.  
  
I stood up, pushing my chair out violently, then sat again just as abruptly. If I walked out I would be playing right into their hands. They were waiting for me to make a mistake, that much was obvious, and I was damned if I was going to let them win.  
  
Form 387D beckoned to me, and I signed on the dotted line. Wouldn't want the canteens of the Air Force to run out of capers.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
I packed up for the day dead on the stroke of 1700hrs, closing my briefcase, only the book I had brought to read during my lunch hour banging around in its otherwise empty interior, and strode purposefully out of the office, trying to look like I had somewhere exciting to go. The truth be told, the small apartment I had moved into when I first arrived in Washington was dull, boring, and claustrophobic and I mainly spent my off duty time either reading in a nearby park, or watching sport in some anonymous bar.  
  
"Good night, General O'Neill."  
  
I nodded at Captain Hoffman, and smiled. It wasn't the Captain's fault that she had had me foisted on her otherwise smoothly running command and I had made an effort to be as pleasant as possible to her and the rest of my staff.  
  
"Goodnight, Captain. See you in the morning."  
  
Into the same elevator I had ridden for almost three weeks. Along the same corridor. Through the same security checkpoint.  
  
"Sir."  
  
"Thank you, Sergeant Kelly." I handed the pen back and was rewarded with a genuine smile from the man. I don't think a lot of officers here at the Pentagon bothered to remember the guards' names, and he obviously appreciated the effort.  
  
My car was parked where I left it, in its allocated spot. No driver for Jack O'Neill now. Just another senior officer, shuffling paperwork all day. Just for a moment I let myself give in to the despair, shutting my eyes and resting my head against the back of the seat.  
  
No point sitting here.  
  
I straightened, turned the key in the ignition, and drove home.  
  
Tomorrow was also a day.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
My phone calls to my former team, now relegated to just friends by circumstance, had become painful and awkward. They couldn't talk about anything except the boring parts of their lives, and there weren't enough of them to fill in more than a few minutes. I wasn't in the loop anymore, my need to know having been cut up and disposed of like an overdrawn credit card. There was nothing to fill the gaps, no exciting tales from their ex- CO.  
  
Over the last weeks I had become more and more concerned about what was going on back at the SGC. It didn't help that Daniel had contacted me on my cell a few weeks ago, nervous as a deer in hunting season. The call had been short, cryptic, and extremely worrying. Since then his calls had become increasingly more frequent and even less revealing, until I was almost screaming from frustration whenever I heard his voice. Carter was no help at all, only calling a couple of times, and then avoiding any reference to problems with vague replies. As for Teal'c – apparently he was not dealing with the change in command too well, and had taken some time offworld with the rebel Jaffa. I found myself insufferably pleased with myself when I heard that. Teal'c certainly knew the meaning of the word 'loyalty'.  
  
The call I had gotten from Daniel yesterday afternoon had been particularly bad. It had been obvious he was desperate to tell me something, something he was worried about, but he couldn't. We both knew my calls were probably being monitored, so he couldn't even give me a hint, and I knew not to ask. At least I knew Carter and Teal'c were okay, that much he had said.  
  
Sitting at my desk, I kept replaying the conversation over and over again, trying to interpret Daniel's words for hidden meanings, and worrying.  
  
Worrying.  
  
I couldn't go running back to the SGC to find out what the problem was and I didn't have anyone to ask.  
  
There was nothing I could do, but that didn't mean I could just sit back and do nothing. So I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances.  
  
Worry.  
  
I wasn't getting any work done, and it kept coming. By mid morning I could tell Captain Hoffman was beginning to be concerned. Hell, I was concerned too, and about more than a few pieces of paper.  
  
Enough was enough. There was no point sitting here brooding.  
  
"I'm going to the canteen for lunch, Captain." I saw her start of surprise, but she knew better than to say anything. I'd been eating lunch in my office every day, and avoiding the Officer's Cafeteria like the plague, there being no point in causing problems, but today I needed a change of scenery.  
  
The place was packed, so I joined the queue and grabbed a couple of sandwiches without even looking at what I had picked up. An empty table across the room beckoned and I made my way over to it, acknowledging greetings from the few junior personnel that had obviously not heard I was persona non grata, but not stopping to talk. My coffee slopped over the edge of its container as I put the tray down on the table's smooth shinny surface, and I pulled a napkin out to wipe the bottom of the cup before drinking. Wouldn't want a black mark against my name for having a dirty uniform. I could see gossip being exchanged, it's effect spreading out like ripples on water, as more and more heads were raised to look at me.  
  
I smiled a grim smile into my sandwich, taking a large bite, and chewing slowly.  
  
Ewwww! Cheese and tomato – not one of my favourite combinations. Oh well, it just seemed to suit the whole scenario, so I valiantly swallowed and took another bite, letting my eyes roam around the room, stopping on people I knew. I smiled pleasantly, and watched their reaction. Some smiled back, but most ducked their heads, avoiding my glance.  
  
This was fun, in a perverted sort of way. How to not win friends and influence people, but it was better than sitting in that damn office.  
  
I was looking down, deciding whether to forgo the processed chicken and mayonnaise delight I seemed to have chosen as the second half of my lunch, when I became aware that the ripples of whispering had become waves.  
  
Now that was a sight you didn't see often in a cafeteria. The Air Force Chief of Staff looked as out of place as I did.  
  
I watched as General Jumper threaded his way between the tables, the now silent officers observing his every step with interest.  
  
As his destination became clear I found my mind frantically cycling through all the possible reasons for his presence. By the time he reached my table I was finding it very difficult to hide my trepidation, but I kept my face passive, knowing my eyes were as cold as my anger.  
  
"May I join you, General O'Neill?"  
  
"Of course, sir."  
  
My polite formality could not be faulted.  
  
An aide appeared, tray in hand, and I saw the same chicken sandwich sitting in solitary splendour on the small white plate. If there was ever a more flimsy excuse to sit with me, I hadn't seen it. The man moved off, leaving his boss to talk to me in private.  
  
He kept his voice low as we exchanged inane pleasantries. Yes, I was happy with my office. No, I didn't need anything. Yes, I did find the Washington weather pleasant. Soon the normality of our conversation had bored any listeners so completely that the noise around us had grown to hide any words.  
  
"I understand you've had a few calls from a doctor friend of yours"  
  
I blinked up at him, Doctor? Images of Janet flickered through my mind, only to be wiped out by the emphatic look on the General's face. Doctor? Oh, Daniel. The expression on my face must have reflected my line of thought because Jumper raised an eyebrow at me. As if Daniel calling me would have been unusual. I handed him a neutral 'Yes." leaving him to draw his own conclusions.  
  
"Has he hinted at anything amiss at your previous command?"  
  
I could see the man was probing, blatantly and obviously probing. I wasn't going to give him what he wanted, and I was fully capable of asking questions myself.  
  
"Should he have?"  
  
"No, no. Just an administrative problem he seemed to have some concerns about."  
  
"Well, he was never keen on paperwork, sir. Unlike me." I raised my lips in a smile, and was rewarded with an almost flinch from my superior. It didn't stop me from worrying, but it helped. For Jumper to approach me like this something must be seriously wrong.  
  
"How are things going at the base, sir?" I kept my voice low and pleasant.  
  
"Fine, Jack, fine." It was Jack now, and the eyes definitely didn't meet mine.  
  
What was wrong?  
  
I decided to take the bull by the horns and just ask.  
  
"Sir, I..."  
  
Flashy white light. That feeling as if my stomach was turning inside out. The sight of Earth floating beneath my feet.  
  
Damn, but it must be interesting back in the cafeteria right now. Pity I wasn't there to see it.  
  
"Greetings, O'Neill."  
  
I spun on my heels, grinning. Thor's next words cut my pleased greeting off completely.  
  
"I don't appreciate having to transport you out of a room filled with people, General O'Neill. I am extremely annoyed."  
  
What?  
  
"Ah...Thor, buddy, I have no idea what you are talking about."  
  
I could see my words surprised him, and his large eyes blinked. "I am talking about you ignoring my requests to talk. Each time I have visited the SGC I have been told you are unavailable. I can understand you have things to attend to at your nation's headquarters, but what I had to tell you was important." Thor's recent informality seemed to have completely deserted him, but his voice was becoming more annoyed as he went on. "I know you asked that I give my information to Doctor Jackson, Colonel Harper, and General Vidrine, but I specifically requested to speak with you." He paused for a moment, then lowed his voice again, looking at me with sad eyes. "If for some reason we are no longer friends, Jack, I would have hoped you could be honest with me, especially when so much is at stake."  
  
The pieces began to fall into place, and I found myself growing angrier by the second. They hadn't told Thor I had been transferred, and it was obvious why. The Asgard were refusing to talk to anyone but me, and instead of telling them what had happened, Vidrine and the others had been lying to them. No wonder Daniel had been so worried.  
  
I crouched down beside the command chair, bring myself to Thor's level.  
  
"Thor, I'm not in charge of the SGC anymore. I was relieved of my command almost three months ago. That's why I've been in Washington. I was posted there."  
  
The Asgard blinked, and cocked his head to one side, clearly thinking over my words. "I do not understand, Jack. Why would they do such a thing?"  
  
"I disobeyed one order too many, buddy, when I went through the gate to rescue SG-1. This is my punishment."  
  
Thor stood, his thin legs bending, looking almost too frail to hold him. He didn't say anything for a minute or so, looking out the observation window at the planet below. I continued to speak, while watching him. "I'm sorry. You'll have to deal with someone else now, I can't help. Hopefully there'll be a new commander appointed to the SGC soon, and things will be back to normal."  
  
I was surprised at the speed with which he turned, his voice snapping out at me.  
  
"They can not be normal if you are not there. I will deal with no one else, and I have told your government that. I trust only you. You are my friend. How can you dismiss this so easily?"  
  
I closed my eyes, shutting the sight of his hurt face away from me. "Don't you understand? It isn't my choice. I would give anything to still be in command of the SGC, but it isn't going to happen. I've trodden on too many toes, and I don't think you'll be able to persuade them otherwise. My government does not react kindly to blackmail, even from an ally."  
  
"Is there nothing I can do?"  
  
I nodded. "You can beam me back down, and then go tell Vidrine whatever it was you were going to tell me."  
  
"We have picked up communications between your planet and a Goa'uld ship in the vicinity of your solar system. I wanted to warn you that there are more traitors in your midst. When Doctor Jackson listened to our recordings of the messages he became quite agitated and was removed from the meeting."  
  
Oh hell, Thor was determined to tell me, despite what I had just explained about not being able to help. But given what the Asgard was saying, I wasn't going to stop him.  
  
"Who were the transmissions from?"  
  
"We do not know, but they originated in your capital, and were from several sources. They spoke of Doctor Roberts as an employee of theirs, and there was some discussion about a 'hit'. I did not understand the term, and it was then that Doctor Jackson became upset. He wanted to speak to you, as did I. I requested that you attend the meeting and was told the situation was in hand. When I asked that you contact me, and you did not, I was upset, thinking that you saw my information as unimportant." He walked the few paces to my side and looked up at me. "I apologise, Jack, I should have know better."  
  
I had him play the recording to me, and listened to the cultured tones of at least three of my fellow countrymen and the superior resonating voice of some nameless Goa'uld. My blood boiled to think there were people out there crazy or greedy enough to risk their whole planet for the sake of their own interests. In some places the sound was barely audible, background noise of movement and other conversations intruding, but I could pick out the words enough to hear what Thor had told me.  
  
A hit. I could see why Daniel had been so upset. It sounded like the government was trying to handle the situation with as little help from our alien allies as possible. I wondered if they had a lead to the source of the transmissions, or even an idea as to the target.  
  
I wondered if I would ever know.  
  
I could only promise to do what I could, and ask again to be sent back down.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
The cafeteria had been cleared when I was beamed back, except for General Jumper and some senior Special Forces officers, the whites of their eyes showing. I raised my hands as their weapons were turned on me, and waited for Jumper to give the order to lower them.  
  
It seemed to take forever, but eventually they were called off, and I found myself alone with my boss.  
  
A very angry boss.  
  
"Do you realise the problems you've just caused, General O'Neill? The security breeches alone are almost too serious to even contemplate."  
  
I stepped back, my hands clenched into fists behind my back.  
  
"I didn't ask Thor to beam me up, sir."  
  
"He wouldn't have done it if you hadn't given him the idea he could come and go, and take personnel as he pleased. You have always been just a little too willing to go along with the Asgard, haven't you General?"  
  
I stayed calm as Jumper became more and more angry.  
  
"He felt he had just cause this time, sir. He is concerned that his warnings are going unheeded."  
  
Jumper snapped straight back, his normally friendly face set in lines of anger.  
  
"That is none of your concern now. You will confine your activities to those you have been assigned. You will speak of this to no one. Is that clearly understood?"  
  
"What about the hit? Have you found out the target? Has the President been warned?" I couldn't help myself – this was too important to just drop.  
  
"General O'Neill." He dropped his voice, and glared at me. "You will return to your office and remain there until I send for you. You will discuss what has happened here today with no one. I will tell you this, the situation is in hand and when we have some concrete evidence of anything the President will be informed."  
  
"But, sir...."  
  
"Do you realise how close you are to a court-martial right now? Return to your office."  
  
I snapped a perfect airman "Yes, Sir!" at his glare, and marched out of the door, ignoring the curious glances from the people I passed as I made for the ramps, preferring to take the old fashioned way back down to my office, giving myself time to regain my composure. Once the door of the featureless room was shut behind me, I let myself slump into the chair, my head in my hands.  
  
Now what?

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
I must have sat there for an hour, going over and over what I had been told by Thor and listening to the copy of the transmission he had provided me with, the small recording device held in the palm of my hand, and concealed from prying eyes in my jacket pocket until now.  
  
It all boiled down to one clear fact. There was going to be a Goa'uld sponsored hit on someone here on Earth, probably carried out by our own people.  
  
The target would have to be important for the Goa'uld to be interested. There weren't many who fitted that profile.  
  
Jumper.  
  
Hammond.  
  
President Hayes.  
  
George was currently overseeing the upgrades on Prometheus, and I assumed he had been fully informed of the situation. Even if he hadn't, he was in space, and certainly not an accessible target for any Earth based assassination.  
  
General Jumper obviously knew what was going on.  
  
That left only one person out of the picture. The President.  
  
I felt a hard lump in the pit of my stomach, as I realised the significance of what I had just heard – what had been hovering on the edge of my awareness since I first listened to the message from the Goa'uld ship, something that could be easily missed if you didn't speak fluent Goa'uld. The background voices had been loud enough to pick out only a few mutterings, and if I hadn't been concentrating I would have missed them. Fortunately I didn't. One word had been clear. The Goa'uld word for 'ruler', a difference subtle enough to be mistaken for 'lord', one Daniel could have taken as a reference to their own leaders. For me that could only mean one person.  
  
I couldn't just ignore my intuition, it had saved my life far too many times in the past. I reached for the phone.  
  
The words 'I'm sorry the President is unavailable' bounced around in my brain as I slammed the receiver back down. I had to warn Hayes. I tried every means I could think of to get around the problem, even going as far as calling to ask to speak with General Jumper again. Nothing. I was stopped at every turn, until I felt like I was just going around in ever decreasing circles.  
  
I had been ordered not to leave my office.  
  
I had to warn Hayes.  
  
Oh for crying out loud! Why is it always me?

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
I made it into the White House with no problem, my uniform and its intimidating array of ribbons enough to prevent any questions. Then I had to call on my experience, blending in with the passing staff, moving gradually closer to my goal. It didn't matter how good the security was around the Oval Office, I had years of Special Ops experience, and numerous sorties into enemy territory over my years at the SGC to call on. I had also been taught by the best – The Ex First Prime of Apophis. The White House was a piece of cake compared to a System Lord's palace.  
  
The secretaries outside the Oval Office smiled at me enquiringly, well used to my visiting at all hours.  
  
"We haven't seen you here for a while, General. It's good to see you again."  
  
I smiled, and propped my hip on the corner of the assistant's desk, toying with the small bear she had by her keyboard. "Hi, Sandra. I've been a bit busy. You know how it is." I gave her a grin and ducked my eyes back down as if embarrassed, watching the guard relax and lose interest in me. Just another man, old enough to know better, flirting with a pretty woman. "The President called me half an hour ago and asked me to come straight over. It took me a bit longer than I expected and I don't want to keep him waiting. Okay if I just go in?" I was up, my hand on the door handle as I finished my speech, and her surprised face disappeared behind the door as I walked in.  
  
The Secret Service's reaction to my sudden appearance in the Oval Office was spectacular to say the least, and I had to disarm one of the two agents to prevent him from shooting me. I held him in front of me for just long enough to let the President see who I was, then released him with a shove and handed his weapon back.  
  
"General O'Neill, what in god's name do you think you're doing?" Hayes pushed himself past the head of his security unit standing protectively in front of him to come towards me, ignoring the man's protests. "And how the hell did you get in here?"  
  
I held my hands out, showing my unarmed state, most of my attention still on the security detail. Another two agents had entered the room at my back, signalled by their chief, and I was making no sudden moves.  
  
"I have received intel, Mr President, from one of our allies. It points to an attempt being made on your life in the near future." I glanced pointedly over at the pistol aimed at my head. "Could you tell them I'm not a threat please, sir."  
  
"Aren't you?"  
  
That threw me for a moment but I replied with some anger, even though I knew I would feel exactly the same as he did if I was in his shoes. "I would hope you would know I'm not, Mr President."  
  
The moment of silence seemed to stretch forever, Hayes' gaze weighing me up, then he replied, his posture relaxing. "Yes, Jack, I do know better." He gestured to the four men surrounding me. "Stand down, gentlemen."  
  
"Are you sure, Mr President?" Their boss hadn't lowered his pistol, his eyes fixed on mine, watching for an indication of action on my part. I had no doubt I would be dead before I could raise an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes, Stan, I'm sure. If General O'Neill wanted to kill me, I'd be dead by now and there would have been nothing you could have done to prevent it." The President gave me a frosty smile and I nodded slowly in response. "Now, what was it you wanted to see me about, Jack? Wouldn't it have been easier to make an appointment?"  
  
He gestured me to a chair in the corner and took one opposite me. I let some of the tension leave my body, and sat back.  
  
"I tried conventional channels, sir, but was told you were unavailable, and it is urgent. As I said, I've spoken with one of our allies, and he has intercepted communications about an important person being targeted for a hit."  
  
"Have you told your superiors about this?"  
  
"Yes, sir, I have. General Jumper was made aware of the threat some time ago, but didn't think it warranted you being told." I looked down, trying to find the words to explain the feeling of impending doom that was getting worse by the second. "The name of the target wasn't mentioned, sir, and the source of the communication is being investigated, but I..."  
  
The President held up his hand, halting my words in their tracks. "So if I understand correctly, Jack, you have come here, probably against express orders not to do so, to warn me about something that is already being handled by other means. You can see, given your current situation, that your actions could be construed as grandstanding."  
  
I sat, speechless, stunned that he would even suggest such a thing. I really didn't know what to say in reply. My first instinct was to give him my resignation. If I wasn't trusted I couldn't do my job.  
  
My job. After this little escapade, I'd be lucky to have one. Maybe my first instinct was correct – get my resignation in before I was court- martialled.  
  
But that still left the target of the hit. I was certain it was President Hayes, and I would be damned if I was going to leave this office before he understood, regardless of the consequences to myself.  
  
All this went through my mind in a split second, and I opened my mouth ready to reply.  
  
The movement I saw from the corner of my eye was familiar and horrifying. The agent I had disarmed had kept his weapon in his hand, ready. That I understood. What I saw now wasn't so easily explained. His finger was wrapped around the trigger and tightening.  
  
I forced my still slightly weak leg muscles into action, launching myself into the President and knocking him to the carpet. The savage blow hitting the side of my head seemed to come well before the sound of the gunshot, and I lay there, weapons fire echoing in my skull, gradually fading.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
"I'm ordering you to get a doctor in here."  
  
The President sounded very angry, but whoever he was speaking to didn't seem to care. I opened my eyes and tried to sit, but only managed a soft moan. A hand came down on my chest, pressing me gently to the floor.  
  
"Jack, stay still. You've been shot.'  
  
Tell me something I don't know.  
  
"I know you know, but you still have to stay still."  
  
Oh crap, did I say that out loud?  
  
"Yes, you did."  
  
That too? Something isn't right here.  
  
"You've got a bullet wound to the head. Help will be here soon."  
  
That wasn't the impression I got.  
  
"Stan has locked down the Oval Office and refuses to let anyone come in until he is sure the threat to me has been completely neutralised. The assassin is dead, but he wants to be certain."  
  
"Right thing to do." There, I could talk out loud when I meant to.  
  
"Yes, you can."  
  
He sounded worried, and ... oh crap, I was doing it again. Shutting up now.  
  
God, my head hurts.  
  
"Stan, we need to get him some help right away. I can't stop the bleeding."  
  
There was movement around where I lay, and I knew the agents would be checking the room. The President's face swam into view, anxious eyes searching and holding mine.  
  
"I'm sorry I doubted you, Jack. This job's gotten to me, and I'd find it hard to trust my own mother if she were still alive. I should have listened to you. This could have been prevented."  
  
"It's okay." I managed a few coherent words. "It's my job."  
  
"Your job isn't to get yourself killed because of someone else's stupidity."  
  
I forced a few more words out past the obstruction in my brain. "Is. Done it before."  
  
I barely heard his answer through the soft pillows of white noise. "Yes, you have."  
  
I couldn't even nod in agreement as the room spun and fogged.  
  
"No!" Hayes' shout was sudden and shocking. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, and watched, totally unable to do anything, as a struggle went on above my body, the President grappling with one of the Secret Service agents, a gun held between them. It was over in a few seconds, and I faded out again as something fell, the sound of a shot once again breaking the peace of the Oval Office.  
  
Movement, sharp pain as I was knocked violently, a weight falling heavily across my torso. Everything came back into sudden focus and I found myself staring into the blank eyes of a man, his face inches from mine. His whispered words were loud in the silence.  
  
"You're mine, O'Neill." The familiar coldness of gunmetal pressed against my chest, and I steeled myself for what was to come.  
  
This time the explosion of the shot sent me straight down to hell.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
"Put more pressure there, sir."  
  
I felt hands, and something pressed so hard against my head that I thought I would pass out. I saw the face of the President's security chief hovering over me.  
  
"General O'Neill. Can you hear me?" He turned his head, speaking to someone else. "He's conscious, sir."  
  
"Jack. Hold on."  
  
I wanted to, but I didn't think I could. Not this time.  
  
Not this time.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
"O'Neill?"  
  
Who would have guessed that heaven or hell would be peopled with little grey aliens? I wondered which destination I have arrived at, it was an each way bet considering some of the things I had done over the years.  
  
"It is good to see you awake, O'Neill. I will call Commander Thor and your President."  
  
I lifted myself up on one elbow, holding the thin sheet that was my only covering tight as I did so, and watched the Asgard leave the room, before taking in my surroundings.  
  
An Asgard medical facility. This I could recognise – I had spent enough time in them. Now I just needed to work out what had happened. My memory of recent events was sketchy to say the least. And what was that the medic had said about the President?  
  
It wasn't too long before my question was answered in the form of Hayes and his Security Chief, Stan. They took up positions alongside the bedlike table I was lying on, and I suddenly found myself sitting up slightly as the bed formed an incline beneath me. That certainly made things easier. Thor was with them, dwarfed by the taller forms of the two humans.  
  
"What..." I couldn't manage any more than one word before my throat seized up with dryness.  
  
"Here, sir." Stan took a clear container of liquid from the nearby table and held it out to me. I was pleased to see that my hands didn't shake as I took it gratefully, sipping just enough water to clear my throat.  
  
Hayes didn't wait for me to speak again. He was grinning exuberantly, patently enjoying himself. "There were two gunmen, Jack. It seems I wasn't the only target. I managed to stop the second one, but he was damned determined. Stan killed him with his second shot, just before he pulled the trigger." For a second his face sobered. "It was close, Jack. A split second later and you would have been dead."  
  
"You almost were anyway, O'Neill." Thor took up the story and as I turned to look at him I was surprised to find a considerable amount of emotion on his pale face. "I had been closely monitoring you since our discussion on my ship, and when I saw your life signs fading, I transported you up here. My medics were fortunately able to prevent your death, although it was very close." His eyes crinkled a little. "Try not to do that again, Jack. It is not good for my health."  
  
I reached a hand out and touched his arm where it rested against the side of the bed. "I'll do my best, buddy, but no promises." He inclined his head, blinking.  
  
The President spoke again, and I turned back to him. "Stan and I came along for the ride. We were trying to stop you from bleeding to death, and it seems Thor here was in too much of a hurry to pick and choose."  
  
"I apologise, President Hayes, but any delay would have been fatal to O'Neill."  
  
"That's okay, Supreme Commander. Coming here, seeing this marvellous ship, it's an experience I wouldn't have missed for anything. Not that I expect General O'Neill to be shot to get the next invitation."  
  
"Gee, thanks, Mr President." My joke was weak, but Hayes laughed nonetheless. I swung my legs around, and with the help of Stan's steadying hand, was soon on my feet, the sheet held by one hand. "Could I get some clothes here, buddy?"  
  
Thor reached down, and pulled a bundle out from a low shelf, handing it to me. I recognised my uniform, neatly folded, cleaned of any trace of blood. I smiled my thanks and turning away, quickly dressed. This was the President of the United States, and, despite having lost all sense of modesty after years in the military, there was no way I was going to display things better left unseen to the poor guy.  
  
Finally decently clad, I looked over at my companions. "How long was I out?" I asked, as I moved carefully towards a seat, breaking protocol by sitting without permission.  
  
"Not long, only a couple of hours." Hayes replied, coming over to join me, watching as I took my tie from my pocket and looped it round my neck. "I was able to contact the White House as soon as I realised where we were, to let them know we were safe. According to progress reports, it seems the agents were sleepers, put into the Secret Service years ago to gain positions of trust. Whatever the organisation is behind this, it must be well entrenched in our government, and perhaps the military as well. The implications are enormous, and there will be very few people I can trust until those behind it are flushed out."  
  
I nodded. I had already considered just these facts before storming the Oval Office, and I understood the President's dilemma.  
  
"There is one you can trust, President Hayes." Thor's soft tones interrupted his words. "General O'Neill has proven that by his actions today. The Asgard have put their trust in O'Neill for many of your years, and it was with shock that we heard he had been relieved of command."  
  
"No, Thor. I explained that." I tried to explain once more, knowing it was fruitless.  
  
"I know. Jack, you did. But I did not agree. Your disobeying orders has once again prevented a disaster for your world. On Othalla you would be honoured. On Earth it seems you are punished. I find this difficult to understand."  
  
"That's not how the military works, Thor. It relies on obedience to function."  
  
"Even at the price of initiative? Has this not finally been proved wrong in your case, Jack? Surely your value to your planet has been borne out by the fact that you were considered as equally an important target as your head of state?"  
  
I didn't get a chance to argue further. President Hayes raised his hand for quiet and stood to stand at the window. He stared down at our planet, clouds lazily swirling across the vast Pacific Ocean, and turned towards me.  
  
"General O'Neill." I stood at the formality of his words. "I hereby reinstate you to the command of the SGC, effective immediately. In fact..." He turned to Thor. "If you would be so kind as to beam us straight into the gate room there, Supreme Commander, I think it's about time I had a look at this Stargate. General O'Neill can give me a tour." He turned back to me, a mischievous smile turning his lips up at the corners, "That's if he thinks his command is up to a sudden inspection by its Commander and Chief?"  
  
I stood straighter. "Damn right it is, Mister President."  
  
The sparkle had just grabbed us when I heard his last words. "You will need to make room for another medal after today, General." He tapped the front of my jacket.  
  
Oh for crying out loud!


	8. Medalling With Old Wounds

Please note the following content warnings: Mention of sexual situations, strong language

Medalling With Old Wounds  
  
  
"Stand down, Sergeant." I stepped protectively in front of President Hayes, bumping into Stan, who was doing the same thing from the opposite direction. I saw the recognition creep into the face of the SF pointing his weapon at us, and watched his eyes shift to take in the two figures with me. He paled, gulped, and took a couple of steps back, lowering his rifle as he did so. His squad took their cue from him, and relaxed slightly, but I was pleased to note, still held themselves ready.  
  
"General O'Neill." Colonel Harper's surprised voice echoed from the speakers connecting the Gate Room to the Control Room. I looked up to the observation window set high in the wall above me and gave a cheerful wave.  
  
"Yes, lock up the dogs, I'm back." I was sure I heard Stan snigger, but somehow it didn't suit the image of the burley head of the President's Secret Service Agents, so I dismissed it as imagination and turned to wave my guests to the door. "After you, Mister President."  
  
"Thank you, General O'Neill." Hayes was looking around curiously, taking in his surroundings. "So this is the Gate Room?" He turned. "And the infamous Stargate."  
  
Despite its looming presence, I couldn't help but give the huge ring an affectionate smile of greeting. I had missed it these last few months.  
  
"Yes, sir, that's it alright. Would you like to have a demonstration of how it works?"  
  
Hayes smiled and nodded, and I turned back to the observation window, giving Colonel Harper a quick questioning lift of the eyebrow. I knew I had no right to give orders in the base anymore, but the presence of the President next to me was the coup de grâce. Colonel Harper gave me an answering smile and I looked back to Hayes. "Normally Colonel Carter explains it, but I don't see her here, so you'll just have to put up with me. Would you step over here please, sir."  
  
When I had the two men in a safe position, I ordered the iris opened, and launched into an explanation of wormhole physics. I interjected the science babble with pithy little jokes and watched, with a well-concealed smile, when Hayes flinched slightly as the wormhole established  
  
"Can I touch it?" The President stared at the blue liquid looking surface with longing, but I caught Stan's eye and shook my head. "Sorry, sir, but we better close it up. The longer we keep it open, the more of our taxpayers money is spent, and we wouldn't want to do that, would we, Mr President."  
  
I knew by his smile that he understood the true reasoning behind my words, but he nodded and stood back. Stan let out the breath he had been holding and gave me a look of gratitude, the President's safety of paramount importance.  
  
"Now, sir, with your permission I'll give you a tour of the SGC."  
  
Our first stop was the Control Room. Carter had just arrived, joining Daniel who had been there when I checked before, and their expressions were priceless. I left the President in Carter's capable hands and took Colonel Harper aside to have a quiet word. I knew I wasn't officially back at the helm of the SGC yet, but it was only a matter of time before Hayes made it official, and I wanted to give General Vidrine a heads up on the situation.  
  
Vidrine wasn't in his office. This could be awkward, it wasn't like I could just waltz back into the SGC and take over, much as I'd love to. There were procedures.  
  
I drifted back over to the group at the control panel in time to hear President Hayes interrupt Carter.  
  
"No need to explain that to me, Colonel. General O'Neill has already given me a run down on how the thing works. Quite amazing."  
  
"He did, Mr President?" Carter saw me listening and paused, obviously trying to think how to word her next question diplomatically. She was saved by Daniel.  
  
"Jack gave a pretty good explanation, actually, Sam. Even threw in a few jokes"  
  
"Jokes?" I could see her consternation growing. For Carter, wormhole physics wasn't a joking matter.  
  
"Very funny ones too, Colonel Carter." Hayes caught Stan's eye and started laughing. "Especially the one about the astrophysicist that walked into a bar...'  
  
Whoops – time to make my presence known.  
  
"May I speak with you privately before you continue the tour, Mister President?" I smiled innocently, ignoring the daggers being cast in my direction from a certain scientist of my acquaintance.  
  
"Of course, General O'Neill."  
  
"Perhaps..." I thought for a moment. I could hardly use my old office, I wasn't officially in command. "...the Briefing Room."  
  
Before leading the way I called Carter over and gave her whispered instructions to let no one in or out of the Control Room. Hayes, Stan Taylor, and I were soon seated around the large table. I swallowed, trying to compose my thoughts, knowing that now was not the time to speak impetuously.  
  
As if I ever did.  
  
"Sir, how many people know you're here at the SGC?"  
  
Hayes thought for a moment, exchanging looks with Stan before replying. I could see the slight worry on the agent's face. This was not the sort of question he would normally advise the President to answer.  
  
"No one, General. The last communication I had with my people was from Commander Thor's ship. I imagine they still think I'm on board the..." he paused, "I don't actually know the name of his ship." Then laughed, "But I probably wouldn't be able to pronounce it anyway."  
  
Okay, now this was embarrassing.  
  
"Ah, well, actually it isn't hard, sir." I found myself looking down at my fingernails.  
  
Oh, look, a dirty bit.  
  
"Really? What is it?"  
  
I hooked my right index fingernail under my left thumbnail and flicked the tiny speck out.  
  
"The O'Neill."  
  
"Sorry, I didn't catch that, Jack."  
  
Oh crap. I looked up into the grinning face and knew I had been played. Oh well, what was that old English expression? In for a penny, in for a pound.  
  
"It's the 'O'Neill II', Mr President, and technically it isn't Commander Thor's ship. It's mine." Which was true. We still hadn't swapped the title back. "I won it in a poker game a year or so ago."  
  
President Hayes was nonplussed. I would venture to say that his plus was very non. I grabbed the opportunity to get the discussion back on track.  
  
"Sir, I want to be completely frank with you. I can't see General Jumper and the Joint Chiefs agreeing to my reinstatement as Commander of the SGC the way things are at the moment, and although it is nice to think you can wave your magic wand over me and have everything back to normal, it just isn't going to happen."  
  
Shit! Did I really just say that? I thought I had ordered myself to engage my brain before opening my mouth? I obviously didn't even obey my own orders.  
  
I saw the frown on Hayes' face, and hurried on. "General Jumper made it quite clear to me that he thinks I'm a loose cannon that's being unduly influenced by our alien allies. It's obvious he doesn't trust me, and frankly, even if you did get me back my command, I wouldn't want it under those circumstances. Now, I don't know why the General has formed this opinion of me. Only a few months ago he was here and gave me his full support. Something has happened to change that, and we need to find out what it is." I saw his dawning comprehension, and hammered the facts home. "I shouldn't even be here. I've made sure no one who has seen us on the base has been allowed to communicate that fact to anyone outside the Control Room. We can use this situation to our advantage, sir."  
  
"How so, General?" He leaned forward, his elbows on the table.  
  
"Whoever is behind the attempts on our lives has been planning for a very long time. I don't think they would have relied solely on those two agents. There are other ways of undermining a government, and influencing people in a position of power could be even more effective than assassination."  
  
"Are you suggesting there is someone orchestrating General Jumper's actions?"  
  
"Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm saying." I hastened to continue. "I'm not saying that the General is involved, sir, just that we should try and find out why he no longer trusts me."  
  
"I agree with General O'Neill's assessment of the situation, Mr President. We need to investigate the reasons for General Jumper's change of heart." I nodded my thanks to Agent Taylor, grateful for his support.  
  
"So how do you want to handle this, Jack? I assume you have a plan?" I saw the glint in the President's eyes, and was reminded that this was the man who had apparently faced down Anubis in the Oval Office.  
  
"Would you like to come to my place for dinner, Mr President?"  
  
I was pleased to see I hadn't lost my capacity to confuse.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
One of the many advantages to having a direct line to the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet was the ability to call on his help whenever he was in the neighbourhood. I left the situation at the SGC in the more than capable hands of Colonels Harper and Carter, and President Hayes, Stan, and I took our own personal flashy beam cab service to my home.  
  
After pulling the drapes and turning on a few lights, I took a quick look around to make sure there was nothing too offensive lying about the living room. Nope – in fact it looked remarkably mess and dust free. My team must have been carrying on the tradition from our old days on SG-1 of looking after each other's houses. I was touched that they had made the effort, despite not knowing when I'd return.  
  
"Please sit down, sir." I gestured to a lounge chair, and took a seat opposite him. Stan did just what I expected him to do – began a quick recon.  
  
I had laid my plan out to Hayes before we left the base. It was simple. Go somewhere where we wouldn't be disturbed, and get Thor to beam in General Jumper. He would have no choice but to listen with the President sitting right beside me, and hopefully we could persuade him to discuss the matter. I wanted to make it as unthreatening as possible though, avoiding the possibility of inquisitive ears hearing what they shouldn't, and to that end I had suggested the dinner at my house. Hopefully the conditioning of politeness to your host would win over anger and give us time to talk.  
  
An essential part of my plan was – food.  
  
Damn.  
  
I excused myself, and hurried to the kitchen. It didn't take a lot of time to work out that there was nothing suitable to feed the President of the United States and the Air Force Chief of Staff. At least not unless they would be happy with some stale crackers and a tin of crushed tomatoes.  
  
I popped my head back around the door. "Would you like a coke, sir?"  
  
"I'd rather have a beer if you've got one, Jack. It isn't often I get to have dinner in private nowadays. Usually I'm dining with heads of state and smiling for the camera." He grinned up at me. "And have one yourself. I hate drinking alone."  
  
I snagged two bottles of warm beer and a can of coke from the cupboard and made my way back to the living room.  
  
"Sorry, sir. I forgot the refrigerator would be turned off." He took the beer I held out anyway, and I placed the coke on the coffee table for Stan when he got back from whatever part of my house he was giving an in-depth examination. I knew better than to offer alcohol to the agent, he was way out of his comfort zone as it was with the President sitting in a private house miles from Washington and unprotected apart from one agent and an Air Force general of dubious pedigree. I didn't think he would be drinking a beer any time soon.  
  
"We'll have to order pizzas, sir."  
  
The look on the President's face was priceless. I don't think he got to eat pizza very often these days.  
  
Stan was back with us by the time I had phoned our order in to the local pizza parlour. Funny, the agent hadn't looked like a ham and pineapple sort of person to me. Just goes to show that appearances can be deceiving.  
  
Then we put together the next - and just recently added - part of my plan. We needed an extra person on the guest list. I pressed the button on my Asgard communication device and General Maynard suddenly appeared in front of us, dressed in casual clothes, with a mug in his hand, and a look of incredulity on his face, abruptly changing to alertness within a second as his training kicked in.  
  
"Francis." Hayes held his hand up, making sure the chairman of the Joint Chiefs saw him.  
  
"Mister President?" He turned slowly, seeing Agent Taylor, and relaxed his stance. The knuckles of the hand he held the mug in regained their colour. "What's going on? How did I get here? And where is here?"  
  
"Shall we just say, General O'Neill has friends in high places."  
  
"You're in my home, sir." I held out my hand. "May I take your cup?"  
  
He gave it to me, more I think out of instinct than necessity, and I placed it on the coffee table next to the beer bottles and listened while President Hayes explained.  
  
I didn't know General Maynard well, but I did know he was a strong supporter of the Stargate Program. We needed to get him on board. Okay – I had to be honest – I needed him. I needed another player in my corner, someone that Jumper could relate to and not just take orders from.  
  
It didn't take him long to agree to go along with my plan, but with reservations. It was the shock of the news of the attempted assassination that brought him round to my way of thinking. A quick call to his family to explain his sudden absence from his den, and he sat back.  
  
I signalled Thor and within two minutes the guest of honour had arrived.  
  
Just as the doorbell rang.  
  
"I'll get it, Jack."  
  
Shit!  
  
I don't know who moved faster, Stan or I. We both managed to leap in front of Hayes before he left the living room. He gave us an abashed look and sat down again. I took the pizzas, keeping the door as closed as possible, and walked back to the waiting men.  
  
General Jumper was seething.  
  
I brought plates, napkins, and some now slightly cold beer from the kitchen, and took my uniform jacket and tie off. Hayes followed suit, hanging his jacket over the back of a chair.  
  
General Jumper still seethed.  
  
He didn't say anything. But, boy, was he pissed.  
  
"Mister President..."  
  
Hayes interrupted him.  
  
"Have a piece of pizza, John."  
  
"No thank you, sir..."  
  
"Go ahead. I insist." Hayes held out a beer. "Here, have this to wash it down."  
  
I pulled a piece of pepperoni pizza from the cardboard and took a bite, hoping against hope that the plan was working.  
  
Jumper kept looking from one to the other of us, General Maynard sharing the ham and pineapple pizza with Agent Taylor, and the President and I sipping our beers. He took a slice from the nearest box and held it as if it was about to leap out and bite him.  
  
The President's voice broke the silence.  
  
"I'm going to give Jack the Air Medal, John."  
  
I interrupted. "Ah –"And then paused, swallowing. Should I say something or not? The questioning look from Hayes answered that one for me. Aw, hell, me and my big mouth. "Umm, excuse me, sir, but I already have that one."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
There was another moment of silence, this time broken by General Maynard. "If I may suggest, Mr President, I think that given the circumstances, Jack should be awarded the Air Force Cross."  
  
Hayes smiled. "Sounds good to me. What do you think, John?"  
  
Jumper looked like he was going to burst. I could almost hear his strangled protests, but to give him credit he managed a very reasonable answer.  
  
"I think I would like to know what's going on."  
  
"Funny, that was exactly what I was going to ask you." The President relaxed back on the chair cushions, his hands interlaced behind his head, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles – his body language screaming that he was in charge, and knew it. "I'd like to know why a man who has done so much for this country is being treated like a pariah by his superior."  
  
"Is that what this is all about?" Jumper lived up to his name and jumped to his feet. "If General O'Neill has any problems with his punishment for disobeying orders he should have gone through the right channels, and not come running to you, sir."  
  
"If he'd done that, the President would be dead now, John." Jumper stilled and stared at General Maynard.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"John." Hayes took up the story. "Jack came to you with a warning today. You chose to ignore it, and when he realized the consequences of that, Jack managed to make it into the Oval Office and save my life, almost losing his own in the process. It's only because of the good graces of the Asgard that he is with us tonight. Now I'd like to know exactly what information you had that could possibly make you ignore a threat like that."  
  
General Jumper looked over to me in consternation and I suddenly felt like finding a corner to hide in while the grownups had their discussion. His face paled as the President described what had happened.  
  
"But that can't be right. I was assured there was no danger to you, sir." He found his way back to his seat, looking like an old man, hunched over and aching. "That it was just a ploy by General O'Neill to get his command back."  
  
Okay, now it was my turn to be pissed, and it didn't look like I was the only one. Both General Maynard and President Hayes leaned forward. It was the President who spoke first.  
  
"Why in God's name would you believe that?"  
  
"I don't get it, John. You were the one who recommended General O'Neill for sole command of the program." Maynard's forehead creased into a frown. "Given Jack's service record, what could possibly have made you change your mind?"  
  
"That's just it." Jumper gave me a quick glance as if weighing up what he was about to say. "I was given information that put a completely different slant on the events in his record."  
  
I spoke for the first time. After all, it was my career we were discussing, and I wanted to know who was trying to destroy it. "What information?"  
  
"Some of your actions behind enemy lines during Operation Desert Storm were questionable. Several of your comrades were put at risk by your disobeying orders. One of the worst examples was the operation in which you were captured. You disobeyed an order to retreat, resulting in the deaths of two of your teammates, and your own capture."  
  
"What! Son of a bitch!"  
  
I shrugged off Stan's hands, and stopped my forward momentum.  
  
"How dare you!" He might be my boss, but what he accused me of gave me the right to be angry. "I obeyed my orders to the letter. Nothing I could have done would have saved those men. I had four months to play that mission over and over in my head, and it was just bad luck, nothing more. How dare you even suggest I was the cause of their deaths."  
  
"Just a minute, Jack." General Maynard stood. "Calm down."  
  
"Calm down! Don't stand there and tell me to calm down. Not once..." I swallowed down the shout and paused. When I resumed I did it in a calm voice, spitting every word from between my gritting teeth. "Not once have I ever put a teammate in danger through disobeying orders. I've done many things I'm not proud of, but they have all been because I've been ordered to, and I resent the implication that I would ever do otherwise."  
  
I stood and glared. If I had had a glove I probably would have slapped it across Jumper's face and challenged him to a duel.  
  
Maybe I had one in the bedroom.  
  
"Jack." The President's warning tone was like a bucket of cold water in my face. I moved back a step and sat back down, Maynard following suit a moment later.  
  
"I think we need to clear this up immediately, don't we gentlemen." Hayes reached out and grabbed his beer. Should I have given him a glass? The improbable sight of the President of the United States sitting in my favourite chair, eating pizza and drinking beer from the bottle, suddenly struck me, and I was hard pressed to not pinch myself to see if I was asleep.  
  
I blinked, trying to clear my fron and concentrate.  
  
Oh crap!  
  
Now was not the time to revert to Ancient. I had to focus, and not let my emotions take over.  
  
"Jack? You okay?"  
  
I looked into the President's concerned face and nodded. "I'm fine, sir, thank you."  
  
"Then let's get down to business." He turned back to General Jumper. "Where did you get this information?"  
  
For a second I thought Jumper wasn't going to answer, but then he spoke, his voice clear.  
  
"It was an impeccable source, Mr President. Retired General Peter Ramsey."  
  
Ramsey.  
  
I felt my heart freeze over, and for a second was back down under the ice.  
  
Ramsey.  
  
"Do you know General Ramsey, Jack?"  
  
"Oh yes sir, I know him." I glared coldly at General Maynard. "He was my CO for a time when I was in Special Ops."  
  
And a more devious son of a bitch I had never met. He had made it clear from the first moment I saw him that he hated me. Once, when I had had enough drink to loosen my normally careful tongue, I had asked him what I had done to him to make him feel like that towards me. I'll never forget the chilling look in his eyes when he had answered. I had done nothing. He just didn't like me, and that was enough for a man like him. He was used to removing obstacles from his path and I just refused to move.  
  
He had been the one to deny Frank Cromwell's request to launch a rescue mission for me when I was captured.  
  
He had been the one to suggest my name to General West for the first mission to Abydos.  
  
Maybe, on reflection, I should thank him. I would never have walked through the Stargate if it hadn't been for Ramsey.  
  
How long had Ramsey been working behind the scenes, undermining everything I tried to do?  
  
And how to explain it to the men sitting here with me?  
  
Then I had a brilliant flash of inspiration. We had been assuming that whoever had been influencing General Jumper was a part of the conspiracy to undermine the government. Taking that thought one step further, and they were in league with the Goa'uld.  
  
Now that we had a name, could we backtrack communications between the two?  
  
It was with a shock that I realised just how far ahead of the others I had leapt. But then I had an advantage –Ramsey was a lying bastard. Now it was up to me to convince the others of it.  
  
I started by being honest. I told the three men exactly what my relationship with Ramsey had been. It wasn't pretty.  
  
I admit, I didn't like him either, and just might have inflamed the situation somewhat. Yes, surprising though it was to think it, I could be annoying at times. One of the main problems I had had with the then Colonel Ramsey, had been when I was seconded on special missions. He hadn't liked that one little bit, especially as he could get no information about them. I remembered coming back from one assignment, exhausted after three days without sleep tracking a target through hostile terrain, and being ordered out before I had even had a shower.  
  
That had been the pig of an operation that had almost cost me my life.  
  
I caught General Jumper nodding when I related this story, and wondered if it had been one of the incidents told to him by Ramsey. By the time I had finished, I knew it was. Maynard flinched when I described the result. The botched instructions for the drop zone. The chute that didn't open that I hadn't had time to pack myself – breaking every personal safety rule I had. The walk back through the desert. And, after nine days with a fractured skull and various broken bones, and several weeks in hospital, the reprimand placed on my file by my caring CO.  
  
At some point in my narrative, someone put whiskey at my elbow, and I found myself sipping, allowing myself the brief indulgence because of the exceptional circumstances. Funnily, the level of the liquid never seemed to drop, and as more and more Ancient slipped into my speech, I realised what they were trying to do.  
  
It worked. I found myself saying things I would never normally have revealed. Deep down I knew I was doing the right thing. It was more than just my career at risk here. They had to know what sort of person Ramsey was.  
  
And by the time I had finished speaking, they did. From the role he played as my CO right through to his spurned advances that first week I had been under his command, the groping hands on me in his office, and the spit I had left on his face.  
  
I had no proof, but it sure was a reason.  
  
When I finally finished, I realised just how good these men were at what they did, and why they had gained the positions they had. They had beaten down my defences as if they were made of matchsticks.  
  
"I'm sorry, Jack." Jumper held his hand out to me, and I shook it. "I should have listened to George Hammond. And I shouldn't have taken Ramsey's information at face value. It's just that I've known him for a long time." I could see by the stunned look in his face that my revelations had shaken him to the core.  
  
"I'll go warm up the pizza."  
  
Let's face it, I don't do emotion well and I needed to get away from their looks of understanding mixed with pity.  
  
When I returned from the kitchen, the reheated pizza in hand, I found a council of war. Now that Ramsey had been identified as a member of the conspiracy, we had a starting point to begin to trace the other members and weed them out, but it had to be handled carefully. There was still some uncertainty about who we could trust.  
  
Well, I knew some people I could trust.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
I hadn't told them what was going on at all, ever mindful of unsecured lines, so they walked right into the middle of it with no warning.  
  
Daniel actually staggered back. I give Carter credit, she stiffened and her face blanked into the perfect military officer. Teal'c's reaction, of course, didn't surprise me. He raised an eyebrow and bowed, the twitch of his lips visible only to someone who knew him very well.  
  
"Come on in, kids. Want a drink?"  
  
"Thank you, General O'Neill." Teal'c took up a position behind the chair I had vacated to answer the door. "I do not require refreshment. I partook of the noon meal just before I left the rebel Jaffa." He actually smiled then. "I am glad to see you home at last."  
  
I heard the depth of meaning behind his words and smiled in response. "Back at ya, T."  
  
"Here, Colonel Carter." General Maynard moved some papers from beside him. "Take a seat and we'll show you what we need."  
  
"Sir." She gingerly sat, awkward at first, but relaxing as the chairman of the Joint Chiefs explained what was happening.  
  
"Ah, Jack? Can I speak to you for a minute."  
  
I followed Daniel into the kitchen, taking the opportunity to dispose of some of the empties.  
  
"What's going on? Yesterday you were pushing paper around an office in Washington, today you're having the President round to dinner. Care to explain."  
  
I raised my hands and opened them wide. "Hey, Daniel, what can I say? I'm an enigma wrapped in a conundrum."  
  
"More like a genius wrapped in a kid that never grew up." He sniggered as he opened the fridge, sighing when he realised there was only beer inside. "Trust you to fall into a pile of manure and come up smelling like roses."  
  
"Well, I'll tell you one thing for free, Doctor Jackson. You saved the President's life today." I put a hand on his shoulder and steered him back out and into the living room. "Come on, I'll explain how your annoying phone calls may have stopped a Goa'uld plan for domination of our planet."  
  
I grinned at the scene. Teal'c was eyeballing Stan from his guard position behind my chair. Stan stood behind the President's, a perfect bookend to the Jaffa. It was obvious where each man's loyalty lay.  
  
Carter had forgotten her initial reaction to all the brass in the room, and was animatedly conferring with Jumper and Maynard, her ever-present laptop open on the coffee table in front of her.  
  
Hayes gestured Daniel over and offered him pizza. The President seemed to be making his pizza last for a very long time, savouring every mouthful. I pictured a regular delivery being arranged to the White House from now on.  
  
As I watched, I put thought to what I could do to help. All the bases seemed to be covered here at the moment, but what about when the communications were traced, what then? Then it hit me. We had a floating resource right above our heads. Why not use it?  
  
A quick word to the others, a buzz to Thor, a press of a magic button, and I found myself beamed up to the 'O'Neill II'.  
  
A few minutes later we had the hologram communication system set up. It was as if Thor and I were sitting with the others, except we had access to the ship's computers and tracking devices.  
  
We worked like a well-oiled machine. Carter relayed information to us as she found it, and Thor and I entered it into the Asgard computers. At first it was frustrating, as each snippet of downloaded communication petered out before we could make anything of it, but after I boosted the power input things started to become clear.  
  
There had been numerous communications between Ramsey and the Goa'uld over the time period we could access, dating back months. One turned my stomach.  
  
I had been set up and Janet had paid for it. The moment SG-13 had set foot on that planet with the Ancient ruins, the Goa'uld had been informed. Dixon was right – they had been waiting for me, and they had known I was coming. Ramsey had seen to that. It had only been luck that saved my life that day.  
  
I saw the moment the rest of my team realised the implications in what they were hearing. I saw Daniel shut his eyes as if in pain, Carter put her hand to her mouth, and Teal'c stiffen. And I felt a crack form deep inside myself, knowing that yet again, a friend had been lost because of me  
  
xoxoxoxoxox  
  
"General O'Neill." Sergeant Kelly smiled at me as I signed in at Paper Pusher Central. "It's good to see you back, Sir."  
  
I smiled back. "Oh, I'm not back, Sergeant, at least not for long. I'm just here to collect a couple of things from my old office."  
  
He took the pen and returned it to its holder. "Have you been reassigned, Sir?"  
  
"You could say that, Sergeant. I'm going back to my old command."  
  
"I'm sorry to see you go, sir."  
  
I bent and picked up my briefcase from beside me, turning to walk to the elevators. "Thanks, Kelly."  
  
I headed down to see Captain Hoffman and have the same conversation with her while putting the few personal items I had in the desk drawers into the case. I looked around at the dull, boring office and grinned, determined to never ever do anything to risk returning to a place like this.  
  
As I left, I had a sudden thought.  
  
"Captain, I'd like you to come to a little ceremony being held in a couple of hours." I wrote the details on a post-it note. "That's if you'd like to. It isn't an order."  
  
She read the note and nodded, smiling. "I'd be happy to come, General."  
  
Sweet.  
  
She was clever, a good conversationalist, and as an added bonus, wasn't bad looking.  
  
I wasn't her commanding officer anymore.  
  
Sweet.  
  
I started whistling as I walked down the corridor.  
  
Two hours, twenty minutes later and I was standing, new ribbon pinned to my chest, making nice to the assorted dignitaries.  
  
A tap on my arm had me turning to find the beaming face of General George Hammond behind me, my team alongside him.  
  
"I heard you've been busy while I've been gone." He patted my chest like a proud father. "Congratulations, son, it's well deserved. And you've got the SGC back. I knew you would."  
  
"Yes, sir." His obvious approval meant more to me than all the others combined.  
  
"I suppose it's pointless telling you to not do anything to risk losing it again."  
  
I grinned. Honesty is the best policy, after all.  
  
"Probably is, sir."  
  
I must have said something funny, because they all laughed.  
  
It was then that I saw him, standing over at the side of the room, staring at me.  
  
Ramsey.  
  
I quelled the desire to go up to that stinking excuse for a human being, and pasted an insincere smile on my face.  
  
"Excuse me a moment. I've just spotted an old acquaintance."  
  
I knew the others were watching curiously as I approached my ex-CO.  
  
The trick here was not to act any differently to the way he would expect. The last thing we needed was to let him know we were on to him, knowing one of the top people in the enemies' camp was much more valuable than the satisfaction of kicking his ass in front of everyone.  
  
"Mr Ramsey."  
  
"General Ramsey, O'Neill. It is customary to address a retired officer by his rank."  
  
I didn't dignify that with an answer.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
He glanced around, obviously noting eyes watching the guest of honor, and took a sip of his drink. "Just keeping tabs on your career, Jack. I must say I was surprised to hear about this little ceremony." His eyes flickered to the figure of General Jumper talking to Hammond, but were back on me almost immediately.  
  
"Cut the crap, you over ripe piece of offal. I'm not under your command any more and frankly, if you don't get out of here within the next five seconds I'll take you out back and shoot you."  
  
He blinked, breaking eye contact. I saw the sweat begin to bead on his shiny, bald forehead. "I see you haven't changed a bit, O'Neill. You always were a rude, insubordinate prick" His voice was an icy whisper. "God knows how you managed to get where you are"  
  
"Well it wasn't by rolling over for people like you, Ramsey." I smiled again, and knew the man heard the hidden meaning behind my words. He flushed, and his eyes flickered again, but this time to a young man standing at the bar. No, he hadn't changed, any more than I had.  
  
"I believe your five seconds are well and truly up. Don't be here when I come back." I stepped back and held my hand out. He took it, a look of apprehension on his face. I raised my voice slightly. "Good to see you again, sir. We must get together and catch up one day soon."  
  
I turned and headed for the men's, knowing he'd be gone when I returned.  
  
That lying piece of scum was going to pay. 


	9. Stress Relief

Many thanks to everyone who voted for General Jack - Year One in the Stargate Fanfiction Awards.Best Series (Gen) Category. I couldn't have won without you. - Flatkatsi

Spoiler Warning - Season 8: Zero Hour  
  
Stress Relief  
  
  
I signed the report and stuck a post-it with a smiley face on the front.  
  
Homeworld Security. Now who thought of that one? Someone with a fondness for melodrama? I bet the General...ah...George...hated it.  
  
Slipping the document into the security satchel, I buzzed for someone to come take it away.  
  
One down, how many to go?  
  
Time for a break. I bent, stretching my hand down to the briefcase I had placed under my desk. I know I had a Hershey bar in there somewhere.  
  
My hand touched something it definitely shouldn't touch. At least not under my desk. Not deep down under tons of rock inside a mountain.  
  
In a park, maybe, or in my own garden.  
  
But not under my desk.  
  
I came back up, took a deep breath, and yelled into the phone.  
  
"Get me Doctor Lee. Now!"  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
"Calm down, Jack. You'll give yourself a heart attack"  
  
"Calm down! I'm getting reports from all over the mountain. The damned thing is popping up everywhere. All Lee did was slow it down."  
  
I threw the sheaf of papers in my hand at him, and watched them flutter into every corner of the room with something akin to glee. At least it would have been glee if I hadn't been so damned pissed off.  
  
The plant from P6J-908 had reared its ugly head in the canteen, the main control room at NORAD, the officers' latrines on Level 7, in fact everywhere it couldn't fail to be noticed. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had flowers, but no - it had to look like an umbrella tree, one of the most boring plants on the face of this planet.  
  
Surely some little white blooms weren't too much to ask for?  
  
There were small scuffling noises coming from the floor. Perhaps the plant was eating Daniel? It might be good for something after all.  
  
I stood, and leaned over the desk. No such luck. He was carefully collecting the papers I had thrown and forming them into a neat pile.  
  
I couldn't even have a temper tantrum anymore without someone cleaning up after me.  
  
I snarled at him, his startled eyes meeting mine for a second before I stormed out of my office, slamming the door behind me.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
"General. The delegates from..."  
  
I pushed my way past. "Tell someone who cares, Walter."  
  
"Sir!"  
  
"No!" I spun on my heels, ignoring his flinch. "I am going home. I am sleeping in my own bed. Tell Doctor Lee that if the plant isn't gone by O800 tomorrow I will order the cook to have it made into a soup for his personal enjoyment. Is that clear?"  
  
"But, sir..."  
  
I raised a finger and stuck it in front of his face, eliciting another flinch. "No! Don't care. Don't think I ever did. Bye."  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Well that was fun. Not!  
  
I took my foot off the accelerator, taking the sharp corner with a little more caution than I had shown on the previous few turns.  
  
Acting like a three year old wasn't the best thing to do while driving down a mountain.  
  
I had some apologies to make. I pulled my cell out of my pocket, steering with one hand, and pushed speed dial.  
  
"Jackson." He sounded a bit concerned.  
  
"Hi, it's me."  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
I grimaced into the phone. "On my way home."  
  
"Major Davis was looking for you. Something about the delegates..."  
  
I could feel my knuckles tightening as I interrupted. "Tell Davis I will speak with them in the morning. In fact, I'll deal with everything in the morning. I'm taking the evening off."  
  
I hung up.  
  
So much for my good intentions. I had turned into the perfect senior officer. An answer for everything, and an apology for nothing.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
The selection of movies was as limited as my patience. I had spotted the small video store down a side street and thought of a brilliant plan to hire a movie for the evening. However, the plan had hinged on my not having to go to any effort to find one.  
  
I muttered, knowing that the clerk was watching me closely. I wandered up the narrow aisle scowling at the bright covers of the kids' movies, running my eyes over the westerns and moving on with a sigh. There was a section labelled "Classics". Since when did the movies I remembered from twenty years ago become classics? This was getting ridiculous. I barely recognised a tenth of the titles staring up at me from the recent releases section. Shit!  
  
I slammed another case back onto the shelf. If I wanted to watch aliens, I'd go out and find some for myself.  
  
"Have you seen this one?" The voice was low and feminine. The hand holding the DVD had long, black painted nails. "It's a classic.'  
  
I shuddered, then looked up at the laugh.  
  
"No, I mean it really is. It's considered to be the worst movie ever made." Long legs clad in black jeans, low cut black top, leather collar and belt with silver studs, and a face hidden behind a fringe of long black dyed hair.  
  
"Just a suggestion. It looks like you need a bit of cheering up." The smile transformed her face. Early thirties, pretty if a little pale.  
  
"Let me have a look." I took the movie and couldn't hold back the laugh. It had a lurid cover featuring a woman who looked remarkably like Nirrti. "Plan 9 From Outer Space!" I even found the exclamation mark at the end of the title humorous. No Plan A or Plan B for these people - they moved straight to nine.  
  
"Perfect." I smiled at the woman. "Just the sort of thing I need tonight."  
  
"You're welcome. I'm glad I could help." She turned back to the shelves.  
  
I was halfway to the counter when I turned back. "Want to come watch it with me?"  
  
She swung her bag embroidered with snakes up onto her shoulder and grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Bela Lugosi said his last words in this movie or any other, something like ten minutes into the film. Every time the dead actor reappeared, back to camera, wearing a long black cape and large hat to conceal the fact that it was a stand-in, I cracked up. The paper plate spaceships with visible string had me rolling on the floor. The leaps from night to day and back again - all in the one scene - were like balm to my stressed nerves. And the hand running up and down my thigh didn't hurt either.  
  
That bag held some pretty interesting cigarettes, the sort I hadn't smoked since the seventies. I didn't renew my acquaintance with them, but I can't say I didn't indulge in a little passive smoking. Some beer, some popcorn, and good company. This was shaping up to be an excellent evening.  
  
Vampira stalked her way across the cemetery for the last time about the same time I lost interest in the plot and moved on to more entertaining things. Like finding out other uses for black leather with silver studs.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
The phone woke me. I untangled my arm from the sheets, lifting myself up on one elbow and reached out.  
  
"Jack's phone. Why are you calling him at four in the morning?"  
  
Oh shit!  
  
I snapped on the bedside light. Black tangled hair and lots and lots of naked flesh.  
  
"It's for you."  
  
Yeah, well duh!  
  
"O'Neill."  
  
There was an embarrassed silence, then the sound of a throat clearing.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"Yes, Daniel?"  
  
"Sorry - ah - I just rang to ask if you could - ah"  
  
I waited impatiently for the rest of the sentence. Then what I was hearing on the other end of the line registered in my half asleep brain.  
  
"Daniel? Why do you sound distant?"  
  
There was the noise of frantic movement and then the timbre of his voice changed. "That would be because I had you on speaker phone."  
  
Oh triple shit!  
  
"Who's with.... No, don't tell me." I took a breath and counted to ten, hoping that the alien plant would take the opportunity to fulfil my dearest wish and eat him. "What did you want?"  
  
"I'm having trouble translating an inscription in Ancient on an orb SG-8 brought back a few days ago."  
  
"And for this you called me at 4am?"  
  
"Would you believe that it seemed like a good idea at the time?"  
  
I was ready to slam the phone down, when his words finally sunk in.  
  
"Orb?" I hissed the word into the mouthpiece, well aware of interested ears. "Like that other one?" I tensed as the memory of being pinned like a bug to the wall of the Gate Room flashed into my mind.  
  
"No. Well, sort of. But I'm sure there's no need to worry..."  
  
I cut him short. "I'm coming in. Don't touch anything."  
  
Hanging up, I pulled myself out of the sheets, grabbing discarded clothes from the floor and dropping them on the bed.  
  
"Here, get dressed. I have to go into work." I practically ran into the bathroom, her words following me.  
  
"Couldn't I just stay here? Wait for you to get back?"  
  
I stuck my head back out the door. "Nope. Sorry. You have to go."  
  
Within a few minutes I was back in the bedroom, pleased to see that she had taken my words to heart and was dressing, albeit with a pout of the lips. I took my uniform from the closet, and put it on, finally sitting on the edge of the bed as I slipped on my socks.  
  
"Listen, sorry about this. Will you be okay if I call you a cab?" I looked across to where she sat echoing my movements, one high heeled boot already on. "Maybe we could have dinner some time, take in a movie?"  
  
She stood, brushing the knots from her hair with a few sweeps of her fingers. I took a step towards her.  
  
She stepped back and looked me up and down, taking in my blue clad body, the stars on the collar. Then she smiled and shook her head.  
  
"No. It wouldn't work. I don't like men in uniforms." She picked up her bag. "Don't take it personally, I think it's something to do with hating authority." She headed for the door. "Don't bother calling a cab. I'll walk. See ya, General."  
  
I grinned.  
  
Well, that was novel.  
  
xoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
I barrelled into Daniel's office, loaded and hunting for bear, only to stop short. Instead of one annoying archaeologist, I was confronted by five pairs of eyes - Teal'c, Daniel, two of Daniel's assistants, and Walter.  
  
"Daniel?"  
  
"Jack."  
  
"Daniel?"  
  
He pointed at the round, copper colored, shiny ball on his desk. I walked up to it, feeling all the eyes in the room upon me.  
  
"Have you touched anything?" I tore my gaze away from the row of buttons running around its circumference. "Please tell me you haven't touched anything."  
  
Daniel looked indignant. "No, of course I haven't."  
  
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, last time you touched an alien ball it started ticking."  
  
"That was just a coincidence - I never even touched it. It started ticking on its own!"  
  
I nodded, staring back at the innocent looking object. "Yes, Daniel, sure."  
  
"I didn't!"  
  
"Did."  
  
"Did not."  
  
"Should you not be translating the inscription, O'Neill?" Teal'c - aka The Voice of Reason.  
  
Anyway, I had been. I could multitask, arguing with Daniel is a no brainer.  
  
I read it.  
  
Blinked.  
  
Read it again.  
  
"What did you make of this, Daniel?"  
  
He picked up his notebook and flipped several pages. "I came up with several possible translations, Jack. It seems to be a warning of some sort, but of what I couldn't work out. Something about visions, or taking the correct path." He looked and sounded annoyed. It really irritated him that I could read Ancient fluently while he was still at Kindergarten level. "Can you read it?"  
  
I nodded solemnly.  
  
"I certainly can. And you were right, it is a warning."  
  
I picked up the orb gingerly and began walking. Every eye followed my movement.  
  
"Come on." I included everyone in my gesture.  
  
"Should I go ahead and get them to dial the gate, sir?"  
  
"No, Walter." I shook my head. "That won't be necessary." I turned the corner, heading for the elevator. "So this was found on the same planet as that plant?"  
  
Daniel held the doors open and we all piled in. "That's right, Jack. I hadn't had a chance to look at it before tonight." His face showed surprise at the button I'd pushed.  
  
The door opened and I started along the corridor to my office.  
  
"Ah, Jack?"  
  
"Shush."  
  
For once, he shushed.  
  
I juggled the orb in one hand while getting out my swipe card, careful not to drop it. As soon as we were all in the office I walked behind the desk and bent down.  
  
Yeap. Still there. Bigger too.  
  
Placing the orb on the papers covering my desk, I twisted the top.  
  
Then I picked it up, ducked down under the desk again and pushed three of the buttons.  
  
The plant took one gulp and shrivelled up.  
  
"Sweet!"  
  
I poked the dry leaves with my foot, watching them crumble into a fine dust.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"Yes, Daniel?"  
  
"What the hell just happened?"  
  
I patted the orb in a friendly fashion, then twisted the top again.  
  
"You were right. It was a warning." I pointed to the appropriate piece of text, tracing it with my finger. "Careful. Align nozzle correctly. Do not spray in eyes." I smiled at him. "It's a weed killer."  
  
I tossed the orb to him. He caught it instinctively, still staring open mouthed.  
  
"Crisis over. I'm going back home to bed."  
  
Every eye swivelled towards me, speculation on every face.  
  
Damn! Let me guess. They had all been in Daniel's office when he called me.  
  
Oh what the hell! They could think what they liked.  
  
I grinned.  
  
"Yes. I won't be back until later. Much later. Could you lock the office door when you leave, Teal'c?"  
  
"Certainly, O'Neill." Was that a smirk?  
  
I whistled as I walked down the corridor.  
  
I definitely wasn't feeling stressed anymore.  
  
XoxoxoxoxX  
  
Movie details for anyone warped enough to want to watch it. "Plan 9 From Outer Space!" aka "Grave Robbers From Outer Space!" Directed by Ed Woods (1956)


	10. Caution, Falling Rocks

Caution, Falling Rocks

I don't think I can begin to describe the sheer unmitigated pleasure I experienced as I stepped into the icy coldness of the event horizon. The rush of motion and sudden deceleration are like familiar friends, long missed and gratefully revisited. Hot sun touched my face and I know I smiled because I saw Carter's expression – that little sideways half lift of her lips and the turn of her eyes that she gives when she wants to laugh out loud but knows better than to do it. To be honest I wouldn't have minded if she had – not this time anyway.

I was off world for the first time in months.

It almost made me want to kiss the scrawny, pale skinned man standing in front of me – almost, but I wasn't that desperate If it wasn't for the grass skirt and cloak of iridescent bird feathers Pat'au would have looked like a Silicon Valley computer nerd, all he needed was a pair of glasses to complete the picture.

Speaking of glasses – ah, there he was. A kawhoosh, a clunk, and my errant archaeologist landed beside me on the marble cobblestones.

"Daniel? Where were you?"

He wrenched his eyes from the sight of Pat'au and his eight wives kneeling below us, and gave me a contrite smile.

"Sorry, Jack, I realised you'd forgotten this." He pulled a large folder stuffed full to bursting from his pack. "It took me a few minutes to fit it in. I knew you wouldn't have wanted to leave it behind, especially as you haven't finished reading it."

I smiled back, showing my teeth. "Gee, thanks Daniel. I really appreciate that." I swear he turned a little pale.

"High Lord O'Nail. We welcome you to Ghia." Pat'au bowed even further forward, his forehead touching the ground. His wives fluttered down beside him like a flight of delicate butterflies caught by a breeze. I know I wasn't the only one to grin at the sight of eight silk clad backsides sticking up in the air, because there were snorts of pleasure from my ever present SF guards, and a long suffering sigh from the female colonel beside me. Poor Carter – always fated to being stuck with a bunch of shallow males.

"Would you like me to hammer home the point that you aren't a god, Oh Mighty Lord O'Nail?" The words, thank goodness, were soft enough to only reach my ears, and I replied in kind.

"Oh very amusing, Daniel. Go on – do your stuff, after all that's why I brought you along. It certainly wasn't for your comedic value."

Daniel stepped forward, extending his arms outwards in the gesture of friendship used on P7D-186.

"On behalf of General O'Neill," he emphasised my name carefully, "I thank you for your welcome." He stepped down the steep stairs, finally reaching the man and bending to take his elbow and guide him up. "The General does not want you to bow before him, as I explained on our previous visit, he is just a man as you are and comes to meet with you on equal footing."

Careful not to lose my equal footing on the slippery stones, I walked with as much dignity as I could muster down to ground level.

"Pleased to meet you." I extended my hand and took his, shaking it firmly.

Pat'au looked a little shocked, and then returned the gesture. His wives merged into one large bundle, holding scarves up to their faces and smiling behind them. I could hear the low murmur of conversation from the younger ones at the back of the group.

"Okay – let's get this show on the road. How far's the village, Carter? I suppose its miles away."

"No, sir, it's just over this rise." The Colonel pointed at the small hill. "It'll only take a couple of minutes to get there."

"Indeed, Lord O'Nail" The chief beamed up at me. "We shall be in plenty of time for the noon meal. We have prepared a special offering in your honour."

As we walked I contemplated Pat'au's words. Typical – probably some sort of native dish designed to have me spend the next few weeks in the infirmary and lose ten pounds.

Daniel had taken up a position to my left, and I turned to him. "Which of the wives do you think the Chief will offer me? Hope it's the redhead – she looks feisty enough."

He threw me a disgusted glare. "I doubt he'll offer you any, Jack. As far as I can tell from my previous visit, his wives are devoted to him. Sorry to disappoint you."

"No, no. Not a disappointment at all, Daniel." I smiled as I strode along, eyeing the bright cloudless sky – no sign of rain, but I was betting that could change in seconds. "I'm happy to just do this treaty thing and get home. No complications, that's what I want from this mission."

Yeap, I meant every word. Just getting out of the mountain was good enough for this general.

The village consisted of a large collection of huts, all made from a rich red wood, capped with thatch. They were carved with complicated patterns and painted in vibrant blues and greens. I had to admit that the sight was quite spectacular. Waiting to meet us, a large group of men stood at the entrance to what seemed to be a meeting hall. I noted several openly staring at Teal'c and moved my hand unobtrusively towards the P-90 hanging from my shoulder. It wouldn't be the first time the presence of the ex First Prime had caused problems for us. I just hoped that this time we would be given time to explain before we had to fight for our lives or undergo some sort of ritual test to prove our hatred of the Goa'uld.

One young man, rivalling Teal'c in size, took a few steps away from the crowd, and I tensed.

"That is an unusual tattoo, unlike any I have seen." He pulled at the sleeve of his tunic, exposing the design of a large flying creature somewhat like a dragon on his right forearm. "I would be pleased if you would explain how it was done." Mutters of agreement came from the other men, all of whom I realised sported equally impressive tattoos on various parts of their bodies.

Teal'c inclined his head, smiling. "I would be pleased to explain it to you. Perhaps after we have eaten?" He gave me a look of inquiry and I nodded.

"Sure, T. Enjoy yourself, live a little."

He gave me a trademark lift of his eyebrow as if checking my words for hidden meaning, before inclining his head in acceptance.

We approached the meeting hall, stepping over the low wooden fence onto a porch at the front. Following Daniel's lead, I removed my boots and left them outside the door before entering the long single room. I couldn't help looking up, my eyes following the tall, carved pillars to their meeting point in the peaked roof. I gave a low whistle of appreciation.

Daniel's voice called my attention back to where it should have been in the first place.

"Ah...Jack?" I turned in the direction he indicated, seeing that the chief was waiting patiently, surrounded by even more beautiful females, but this time younger.

"My daughters, Lord O'Nail." I smiled at the over ten or twelve young things, ranging in age from early teens to mid twenties, wondering how to avoid the sort of faux pas that ended in my marrying one of them. There was a sudden movement to my right, and several teenage boys took up position alongside the girls. "My sons. They are fine young men, are they not?"

I nodded, smiling, hoping against hope that the 'marry a child of the chief off to seal an alliance' deal wasn't a part of this village's culture. "Yes, very fine." I hastily added, "As are your daughters." I wanted no ambiguity here, if I was going to be married off to one, I wanted it to be the right sex. I was relieved when Pat'au grinned and waved his children away.

A low table was set in the middle of the room, groaning with food. I took the offered position at its head, bending my knees uncomfortably to sit cross-legged, barely restraining myself from an audible groan as they cracked dramatically. Daniel and Carter both glanced at me at the sound, giving me sympathetic looks I ignored.

The meal was very plain, but tasty, consisting of various cheeses, fruits, and a variety of bread. The special dish turned out not to be the drugged cake I had been dreading, but a desert similar to ice cream, apparently chilled in a nearby stream fed by mountain springs to almost freezing temperatures.

Lunch completed, we got down to business. I resigned myself to several hours of boring trade negotiations, my presence needed only because of the special request of the chief. This village was close to a very rich vein of naquadah, and if it took my sitting in on the proceedings to get at it, so be it.

A couple of times during the next hour Daniel hesitated over a point, once asking the chief's deputy for clarification, but after a little negotiation, the slight hiccups were solved. I was almost sorry when the papers were presented for my signature, the boring atmosphere had been sending me off into a light doze, my back resting hard against one of the tall pillars. Sleep was one thing I was in dire need of, having not had enough of it for weeks.

Treaty signed, we left, putting our footwear back on, and moving out into the sunlight. Teal'c was collected by his fellow tattoo enthusiasts, and I pictured the conversation as he told them that rather than a work of art, the sign of his forehead was a mark of slavery.

"Yes, the gold does have a rather pleasing effect." My friend's rich voice echoed back to me as he walked away. "I sometimes enhance the colour with a little powder."

I did a double take. Maybe Teal'c was a little more resigned to his mark of servitude than I thought.

"I have had a hut prepared for you, Lord O'Nail, if you wish to rest before the evening activities."

"Activities?"

Pat'au launched into an enthusiastic explanation of the coming event, describing what seemed to be a cross between a school play and a Thanksgiving dinner. I switched off and just nodded graciously as befitted my position of all powerful Lord of the Hammer. Finally he ran out of words, just as we reached the door of a large hut. Bowing, he gestured Daniel, Carter and I in, and took his leave, after telling us to just ask if we needed anything.

I slumped down on the cushions strewn across the floor, and rested my head in my hands, knowing I was gaining concerned looks from my companions.

"Sir? Are you okay?" I felt rather than saw Carter kneel beside me.

"Yes, Carter, I'm fine." And I was. It was hard to identify what I was feeling, but I knew it wasn't anything physical. Rather, there was a lump deep down somewhere inside me, sitting heavy and solid. I took my hands down and straightened my neck, looking around the room. "Just do me a favour and check the door for me, will you, Colonel?"

Without a word, she got to her feet and moved to the closed door, opening it and looking out. Her outline was silhouetted against the sunlight as she turned, looking at me enquiringly.

"Thanks, Carter. Close the door again."

"What's going on, Jack?" Daniel perched himself on a pile of cushions opposite me, his face beginning to show signs of worry. "You've been on edge all day."

Had it been that obvious? Carter took up her previous position at my side and they both waited for me to answer.

"I don't know, guys. There's just something off about this mission. I can't relax. Hell. I expected you to tell me the door was locked and that we were prisoners."

"Why would you think that?" Daniel's brow creased in a puzzled frown, and I knew he was reviewing our contact with the locals for clues.

"I don't know," I replied. "That's just it. All day it's as if there's been something nagging at me, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Well, your instincts are usually right, sir. Maybe you've subconsciously spotted something we've missed." Carter was already looking around, scanning for possible signs of danger. "Should one of us go get Teal'c?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm sure he will notice if there's anything to be worried about. Leave him. It's not often he has a chance to relax on missions." I tried to give a reassuring smile, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting a bit peckish."

Daniel started to get up. "I'll ask for some refreshments."

"No. Humour me." I gave what I knew was a sheepish grin. "Let's break out the MREs. I just want to be sure of what I'm eating."

"Then we shouldn't eat MREs."

I couldn't help laughing at Carter's response. Within a few minutes we were each sitting, the wonders of military field rations ready and waiting. I took a spoonful.

And frowned.

There was something decidedly wrong here. My chicken actually tasted like chicken. I glanced up at the others. They were eating with the usual lack of enthusiasm.

"Ah..." I really didn't know how to put what I wanted to say into words. "Does this food taste normal to you."

"Yes."

"Yes. Sir."

They both nodded. Daniel's frown had deepened.

"Ummm." I put the plate down and contemplated it, but it just sat there – an innocent plate of food. It didn't turn into some sort of strange glob monster and leap at us, nor did it start dissolving the plate's surface in a hiss of acid.

"Okay, Jack, now you're really starting to worry me." Daniel put his plate down too and Carter followed suit. They both edged away from them slightly. "What do you think is wrong with the food?"

"Nothing, Daniel – that's what's wrong with it – nothing. It tastes good." I waited for their response, but got only confused looks back, so I continued. "It an MRE. It isn't meant to taste good."

"Pardon?"

I stood and began to pace. Everything was finally falling into place and I needed to talk it out. If I could say it out loud to them, we might be able to put all the clues together and work out the problem.

"That's just it. There's been nothing wrong all day. No Jaffa waiting for us when we exited the gate. We didn't have to walk miles from the gate to the village. The weather didn't turn to rain and a flash flood. There weren't any fanatical villagers waiting to put us on trial. Pat'au isn't a Goa'uld in disguise. I wasn't asked to sleep with one of his wives, or marry one of his children. Our food wasn't poisoned and I wasn't given any drugged cakes. We haven't had to fight our way back to the gate. Not one of us has been injured yet. And..." I paused dramatically, sure that my final point was the most significant. "This chicken tastes like chicken!"

I finally stopped, and looked at them. They both sat open mouthed, totally kumfumbled looks on their faces.

"Well?" I stared at two of the smartest people I knew and waited for them to give me an answer. There was silence for a few minutes, then I saw the light of revelation in Daniel's eyes.

"Oh my god!" He pointed his right index finger at me, his eyes wide.

"Yes?" Had that brilliant mind found the solution?

"You're bored."

Huh? I asked myself – huh? I opened my mouth and put my confusion into words with my usual eloquence.

"Huh?"

He stood up and leaned over me, poking his finger into my face.

"You came on this mission expecting excitement. Go on, admit it. You wanted there to be problems so you could have a nice little off world adventure and relive the good old days. "

I stared back at him. "Oh, come on!"

"No, Jack, think about it. You were really looking forward to this mission, even though you knew it was a straight forward diplomatic meeting."

At that, I pointed my finger back at him. "But that's just it – there aren't any straight forward diplomatic missions when SG-1 is involved. So why now? "I smiled in triumph, "Answer that, Rock Boy."

"Because, General O'Neill." He immediately snapped back at me, his hands now on his hips and his whole posture radiating sudden understanding. "Because you are on the mission with us."

"What?!"

"Do you really think they would let you off world if there was the remotest chance of there being any danger? If there was a possibility of your stubbing your toe they would probably have scrubbed the mission."

I collapsed back onto the soft cushions, the hard lump filling my throat. Shit! Daniel was right, I had been looking for danger where there was none. And he was right about the rest of it as well. They had given me this mission to keep me quiet, and god knew when I would be getting another one. Probably when hell froze over.

"Sir." Carter's soft voice intruded into my depressing thoughts. "None of us want to lose you, not now we've just got you back."

I finally raised my head and looked up at her. She was smiling tentatively, as if unsure of my reaction to her words. Daniel moved to stand behind her as if backing her up. He nodded sympathetically. .

"Sam's right, Jack. There's just so many times you can fight your way out of trouble before it snaps back and bites you in the ass. The President and the Joint Chiefs probably think you've used up all your get out of jail free cards."

"So I've been put out to pasture?" I dropped my gaze again, unable to stand the pity in their faces.

"No, sir. We're just being extra careful of you from now on."

I groaned. "That's just peachy. I get to spend the rest of my career behind a desk with the occasional trip to Planet Geriatric. How trilling!" I couldn't help it, I knew I sounded petulant, but I just couldn't damn well help it.

"No, Jack. You get to run the most important military operation on the planet. You get to talk to aliens every day, and you get to have lunch with the President." Daniel crouched down, and put a hand on my shoulder. "You get to make decisions that affect the whole world – hell, that affect lots of worlds – and ..." He stopped and I looked up, wondering what he was about to say, "you get to annoy Sam, Teal'c and I on a regular basis. What more could you ask for?"

He reached a hand down, pulling me up. "Come on. Let's go find Teal'c and see whether he's gotten a mermaid tattooed on his chest."

I couldn't help grinning. Daniel was right – I should be thankful for what I could do, not be sorry for what I couldn't. I had had some damn good times as the leader of SG-1 and there was nothing to stop me having equally good ones as the leader of the SGC. They'd just be different.

As the three of us walked out into the sunshine, Daniel turned back to me.

"So which of Pat'au's sons did you want to marry, Jack?"


	11. Images In an Album

Author's Note: It's best to have read 'Not Waving, Pointing' and 'Stress Relief', parts twelve and thirteen of General Jack, Year One, and also 'Medalling With Old Wounds', part eight of General Jack Year Two, before you read this one.

Images in an Album

"I'll be back tomorrow General, after your physio session. We'll run through those tests again, but at the moment it looks like you'll be out of here by the end of the week, barring any complications."

I nodded, knowing that there wasn't much else I could do given the circumstances. It wasn't like I could argue my way out of here any earlier.

This time I had done it to myself. No hand devices, staff weapons, or pain sticks. Nope – just a long step down from my truck and a missed landing. Yes, General Jack O'Neill, Defender of Earth and Scourge of the System Lords brought low by his own vehicle. The ignominy of being scooped up off the surface of the parking lot by a passing Airman still rankled. It took me all of ten seconds, and some rather strong swear words, to work out that I had done some serious damage to my left knee.

And now here I was, a guest of the Academy Hospital. Sure I had my own room, with a great view of the park across the road, but I would have much rather have been twenty-one stories underground in the SGC infirmary. Out of the question apparently. The physiotherapist didn't do house calls.

Crap. No point sulking. My base didn't need me fussing around and getting in the way, plus it wasn't exactly set up for wheelchairs. I wouldn't be able to even get into the control room until I was allowed to use crutches, and that would happen only if I was a good boy and did what the doctors told me.

I'm not sulking.

Damn it's boring watching this much television in the middle of the day, although there was that strangely compelling show where that man's wife's sister turned out to be his brother.

Here comes lunch. Oh whoopy! Do people really eat this stuff? Hell, I'm not even sick!

I am not sulking.

I can do this.

xoxoxoxoxo

If I sit here any longer I'll solidify and they'll have to prise me out of this chair with a chisel. To think that my physio sessions are the high point of my day. How the mighty have fallen. I even went so far as to call Davis and ask for some paperwork to do, only to be told that he was under strict instructions not to bother me with any work.

I wouldn't have been bothered.

I didn't expect Carter, Daniel and Teal'c to visit me everyday, but I - okay, I'll admit it - I did. Surely that mission could have been delayed. I'm certain it can't have been as important as Carter told me when she called. Of course she hadn't been able to give me many details over the phone, but there must have been some other team that could have been sent.

I've done the crossword.

Where's Thor when I need him? A beam up, a nice rest in an Asgard medipod and I'd be as right as rain, but is there any sign of him? No. Maybe I should start to make a speech – that usually works.

Okay. So it didn't work. And that corpsman that came in gave me a very funny look. It's a good thing I'm a general or I'd probably be expecting a visit from the shrink any time now. Generals are meant to be indecipherable to the lower ranks. I don't have to explain myself.

Hmph.

I'd even welcome a visit by Anise, as long as she had one of those glowy healing thingies with her.

On second thoughts – no, I wouldn't. Some things just aren't worth the cost.

I can do this.

xoxoxoxoxo

Sweet!

I've got wheels.

The doctor brought me a wheelchair this morning. As long as I have help to get into it I can use it as much as I want. I've already been to the Nurse's station and back. It's amazing how tired I became just going that far. I need to get back into shape.

xoxoxoxoxo

Why is it always that same corpsman? I was just seeing how many times I could spin in place before I got dizzy. I didn't even try to explain myself. I am the Great and All Powerful Indecipherable General.

That's it. I'm out of here.

xoxoxoxoxo

I knew I should have told them I was leaving the floor, but I needed a change of scenery. I decided that a quick trip to the cafeteria shouldn't do any harm. There might be pizza. At the very least I could pick up a new magazine or paperback in the shop.

I was right, they did have pizza – except it had anchovies on it. Now I ask you, who puts little, smelly, salty fish on hospital cafeteria pizza? Maybe they were trying to drum up business by giving all the visitors stomach upsets.

I sat there for a while, just enjoying watching the passing parade. It was nice to see people other then my visitors or hospital staff. Being the mid morning, the cafeteria was quite busy, with everyone, staff, patients, and visitors all taking time out to have a break. Not a lot of pizza being eaten though. See, I knew those anchovies were a mistake.

After thirty minutes and two doughnuts I had just decided to check out the latest thrillers in the gift shop when a conversation caught my attention.

"I told you I had to go back home today. I've got an important meeting tomorrow. It's not like you're really ill or something, is it."

The voice was high and sharp, the appearance of the woman speaking matching the tone exactly. She had a long, thin nose and small, dull grey eyes. Her lips were set into what seemed, from the deep lines around them, to be a permanent state of pursed sternness. .

Her companion was an elderly man, white haired and balding slightly, his face expressionless as he replied in a quiet voice, giving a quick shake of his head.

"I didn't ask you to stay, Emily. I was just hoping you had had time to get me the things I asked for."

"Well, Dad, I'm sorry, but I was too busy to go do your shopping. What with driving from your apartment to here every day and then spending all my time with you, I just couldn't fit it in." The air of long suffering martyrdom practically oozed from every pore. She stood, pushing her chair back, and the man moved to follow her up, leaning heavily on a walking stick. She put out a hand. "No, you stay here. There's no need to get up." She peered short-sightedly down at her watch. "I'll have to run. As it is I'll probably miss my flight." And with a dismissive wave of her hand she was gone.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe having some visitors is worse than having none.

I sat for a moment, watching the other man. He sipped his coffee, staring into space, while the rest of the world went on about its business.

Why I did what I did next, I'll never know, all I knew was that I couldn't just leave him sitting there and walk away.

I rolled back and manoeuvred around the table, heading for the serving line.

The man twisted sideways to avoid the coffee spilling from his cup as the table was given a hard bump by my wheelchair.

"Damn! Hell, I'm sorry." I plastered my most contrite expression on my face. "Let me buy you another one."

"No, no – it's okay. I'd almost finished it anyway." He mopped at the puddle on the table top with a wad of serviettes, just managing to prevent the liquid from dripping down onto his lap.

"I insist. Stay here, I'll get it." Without letting him say another word, I was off.

It only took a few minutes to organise two fresh coffees and someone to carry them for me, and I was back before the bemused expression had left his face. I nodded my thanks as the Airman put the cups on the table, and smiled as I picked mine up.

"I really am sorry about bumping you like that. I'm still getting use to this thing."

I got a brief sympathetic look in response. "I know what it's like. I just graduated to this myself." He patted the walking stick leaning against his chair. "Still, I can't complain, now I've had the hip replacement done I should be a lot more mobile than I've been in a long time."

He gave me an enquiring look and I answered his unspoken question by touching my knee. "Finally did the knee in. I've been expecting it for years. Still, the doctors say it should be back in full working order in a few weeks."

I sipped my coffee, and tried to decide how to raise the subject that had been my main reason for engineering this talk. I glanced at my watch and knew I should be getting back. I had been gone far longer than I had intended and someone was bound to have noticed.

"You late for something?"

His comment gave me the perfect opening.

"Yeah, actually no one knows I'm down here." I gave him a sheepish grin. "But you know how it is. I got bored."

It worked like a charm. He nodded, putting his cup back down and staring at the tabletop. "Yes, I certainly know what that's like. I've been finding it really hard to occupy myself. I'm not use to sitting around twiddling my thumbs."

I nodded. "One of the things I thought I'd do while I was down here was get a new book from the shop, but I doubt I'll have time now. I'll call a friend and ask them to bring one over." I watched his face carefully for a response.

"So you live around here?' At my nod, he continued. "You're lucky. I live out of town. My daughter just flew home to New York, and none of my friends live close by."

"Bummer." His body slumped a little in his chair, and I could see that despite his daughter's uncaring attitude, he was already missing her. "Listen, I couldn't help overhearing the end of your conversation with your daughter earlier." He raised his head and glared at me, but I hurried on before he could speak. "If I'm going to ask someone to get me some stuff, why don't I get them to bring what you need as well? There's no point us both sitting here bored out of our minds, is there?"

I watched as the emotions flickered across his face, then he gave a small smile. "I'd appreciate that, except it isn't books I want."

"As long as it isn't a stripper or a sailing boat, I don't see that there's a problem. Why don't you give me a list and I'll see what I can do."

He ran his hand through his hair, clearly thinking about my offer, and then, obviously coming to a decision, he reached into the pocket of his dressing gown and brought out a sheet of paper.

"I already have it written down. I brought some of my old photos with me, and thought, seeing that I would have plenty of time on my hands I'd start putting them in albums. All I really need is some pens. I've got the rest of the stuff here already."

"Not a problem." I was already scrolling through the choices of whom I could ask to go shopping for me. I gave my watch another glance, and knew I'd have to cut the conversation short. I gave the list a quick look – nothing there that was hard to find, in fact I could see no reason why his daughter hadn't been able to get them for him. "I should have these by tomorrow morning. Why don't you come up to my room and collect them around eleven. I'll be back from my physio session by then. It's 5C, and..." I grinned and stuck my hand out. "...my name's Jack."

"Scott." He gave it a firm shake, grinning back. "Pleased to meet you, Jack. I would give you the money now, but I didn't bring any with me."

"Don't worry about it. You can pay me when you come and collect them."

We left together, parting at the elevator, and I headed back to the joys of daytime television.

xoxoxoxoxo

I was right, they weren't very impressed with me when I got back to my room, but it wasn't like I had missed anything important – just a couple of pills – so I couldn't see their problem. I completely ignored the sound of grumbling that followed me as I pushed myself into my room and shut the door, pulling my cell from the drawer of the bedside cupboard. It was the work of only a few minutes to arrange for someone to get the items on Scott's list and deliver them to me.

Apart from several phone calls, from various people checking on my progress, the rest of the day was uneventful. The call from George Hammond was the high point for me; we spoke for about twenty minutes, while he told me about his family's trip to Washington and how much the girls had grown. I told him about Cassie's latest email, and compared worries about her new boyfriend – some philosophy major she had met in one of her courses. After mutual agreement that philosophy wasn't much of a career path choice, we said our farewells, and I got ready for a fun filled afternoon of sweating and groaning with my physiotherapist.

xoxoxoxoxo

"Knock, knock." Scott poked his head around the door.

"Come on in." I beckoned him forward, while repositioning myself on the bed, grimacing a little at the stiffness in my knee. I had pushed myself as hard as I could, despite my therapist's protests, and now I was paying the price.

"You okay?" Scott frowned as he sat in the chair I indicated. He placed a large plastic bag down on the floor beside him, and leaned back.

"Yes, fine. I'm just a bit sore after being put through the wringer by the mistress of pain," I answered, reassuring him. "I've got the pens here."

I handed him the bag, knowing the receipt was still in it. There would be no point insisting on paying for them – it would just embarrass both of us when he refused to let me. I couldn't help smiling as he pulled out the receipt and took a wallet from his pocket, counting out the few dollars he needed to repay me.

"What's in the bag?" I asked, as I put the money into the drawer.

Scott bent and picked the bag up. "I thought you might like to see what I was working on." Then he looked up, hesitating. "That's if you want to. I don't want to inflict my photos on you if you have other things to do."

"No, that's great. I'd enjoy that."

He grinned, and I was glad I had agreed. It was obvious that having someone to show his photos to would give him a great deal of pleasure and I wondered how much interest his own family had shown in them.

He pulled a large album from the bag, its blue cover shiny with sparkling newness.

"Hey, Jack. We're back."

Suddenly the small room was crowded with people. Daniel was first in, looking happy and rested, making a nice change from the normal state my ex-team returned from an off world mission in. Carter was next, closely followed by Teal'c.

"Guys! I didn't expect to see you." I turned to Scott, motioning him to stay seated as he stood, ready to give his chair to Carter. "Let me introduce you to Scott, a fellow inmate of this fine establishment. He was about to show me some of his photos."

"Oh – can we see them too? Where were you stationed?"

Scott smiled, in a rather surprised manner, at the genuine tone of enthusiasm in Carter's voice. "After 'Nam I was an instructor at the Academy until I retired."

Damn! That was unexpected.

Daniel came and perched on the end of my bed. "Really? Then you might know Sam and Jack then." He then put his hand out, and did what I should have done when they first arrived, introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Daniel Jackson, this is Samantha Carter, and the quiet one is Murray."

I searched Scott's face for any sign of familiarity, as he shook Daniel's hand and nodded in response to Teal'c's slight bow, but came up with nothing. He looked to be about twenty years older than me, so he was the right age to have been at the Academy when I was there. Then I realised I was missing one vital piece of information.

"Scott, you never did tell me your surname."

"You didn't tell me yours either, Jack. Master Sergeant Scott Corbett."

I had a sudden flash of staggering off a bus, the remembered feeling of uncertainty and trepidation as vivid as on that day long ago, and being told to drop and do push ups in the mud of a rainy winter's day.

"Oh for crying out loud! I don't believe it!"

"Sir?"

"This is my drill instructor, Carter. The man that made my life hell for weeks." I sat back, stunned. He hadn't changed that much – still held himself as ramrod straight as he did then, it was just the totally unexpectedness of meeting him again that had stopped me from recognising him.

Scott smiled, totally unrepentant. "Well, it was my job, Jack."

"O'Neill – Jack O'Neill. I doubt you'd remember me though. You must have trained hundreds of cadets over the years."

He nodded, then opened the album that still rested on his knees. "I have to admit that I've never had a good memory for names, but what I do have is a photo of each cadet unit I taught." He started turning the pages, and my friends leaned in. "When were you there, Jack?"

"Early seventies." I couldn't help it; I pushed myself forward in the bed trying to see around Daniel's arm. "Shove over."

Daniel pushed back. "For goodness sake, Jack, what are you? Five?"

I elbowed him in the side. Just a tiny bit.

"No, but I am a sick man."

"You told me you weren't sick, so stop it."

"True, but I'm also the general, so move over and let me see."

There was a thud as the book shut, and I looked up into the grinning face of Sergeant Corbett. "Now boys, stop fighting or I won't let you see the photos at all." He shook his head ruefully. "You're worse than my grandchildren."

"Indeed." Teal'c's sombre tone was accompanied by an amused laugh from Carter.

I crossed my arms and glared at them. "Am not."

"Neither am I." Daniel indignantly echoed my words. "Anyway it was Jack's fault. He pushed me."

"Did not."

"Did too."

It was very hard keeping a straight face, and I knew Daniel was finding hiding his laughter equally difficult.

God, I had missed them.

"General you say, Jack?" At my answering nod, Scot shook his head, bemused. "Wouldn't have thought it."

"He's not your average general, Scott." Daniel moved over as he spoke, giving me more room.

Scott had just opened the album again when the shrill beep of my cell echoed from where I'd put it, and I pulled it out from under the pile of magazines, giving a sigh of frustration.

"O'Neill." I listened as Walter gave me the news that SG-1 was back early due to adverse weather. Where they were back early from he was careful not to say. I thanked him politely, and ended the call, before giving Carter my best stern look.

"So I take it you didn't tell Walter you were coming here, Colonel. He might have had important papers to deliver to me."

My stern look obviously wasn't working anymore, because she just grinned and shook her head.

"No, sir. I'm under strict instructions not to bring you any work." She didn't look at all contrite.

"And who's instructions would they be, Colonel?" I emphasised her rank, but still she grinned.

"Oh, from someone much higher than you, General. Much higher."

"Come on Jack. I want to see the photos." Daniel gestured towards the album. "I want to see what you looked like when you were young and innocent."

"I do not believe that O'Neill was ever innocent." I swear I caught the smallest trace of a smirk on Teal'c's lips.

"Okay, let's see." Scott turned the pages. "You should be somewhere in these photos."

I peered down at the images of fresh young faces standing self-consciously in line and smiling for the camera.

And there I was, just as young as the others, but already looking at the world through cynical eyes. Teal'c was right – I definitely hadn't been innocent. I put my finger down on the picture.

"That's me."

They all crowded in. Teal'c was trying desperately hard not to show his interest, but he was as eager as the others to see my younger self. Carter and Daniel were smiling and I caught them giving each other knowing looks.

Damn – I'd have to tell Scott not to let them get copies.

"That's you?" I looked up again at Scott's words. "I think I remember you." He was frowning slightly, as if he was trying to reconcile the brown haired, carefree face in the photo with the gray haired, lined one in front of him.

"So tell us what Jack was like." Daniel was smiling, and I couldn't help laughing at his eagerness.

"Oh, come on, Daniel. You don't want to hear this. I was just one cadet of many. Nothing special."

"Wait! Got it." Scott clicked his fingers, grinning. "Now I remember. You were drunk when you arrived. You could hardly stand up straight when you got off the bus."

"You made me drop and do push ups before I'd even taken two steps. You didn't give me time to stagger." Then I saw their faces and hurried on. "And I wasn't drunk. I was just a bit fragile."

"Fragile, O'Neill?" Teal'c inquired in his normally calm voice, but his eyebrow was twitching as if it just itched to go up.

"My friends gave me a farewell party the night before I was due to report in." I grinned broadly. "It was a good party."

"Uh huh." Daniel was sniggering. He seemed to snigger a lot lately. Very unbecoming in a grown man. And as for that giggling Carter seemed to be indulging in so much lately...

"It was raining. Pouring down. The ground was very muddy."

At Scott's deadpan words my so-called friends finally dissolved in peels of laughter.

"Oh for crying out loud!"

"Sorry, sir."

She didn't look sorry.

"Do you have more tales of the young Jack O'Neill?" asked traitorous Teal'c.

"Let me think." Scott was still grinning. "I seem to remember something about an inspection and women's underwear."

Oh crap!

I don't think I've ever spoken so quickly.

"No, no, no." Oh god, Jack, engage brain. "No, no, no."

"Jack? Are you all right? You look like you're in pain. Can I get you some water?"

Daniel is getting so much better at sarcasm. That's right, laugh it up Space Monkey. I have many ways to make you regret your words.

"Do go on, Scott."

He was SO dead.

"I'm not sure if I should go into details, given Jack's current rank."

I could have kissed him.

"Suffice it to say, it was a uniform inspection."

I groaned. They all laughed. Carter looked stunned.

Finally, when I could be heard over the gales of hysterical laughter, I attempted an explanation.

"It was a bet. We didn't know there was a surprise inspection that morning."

"I hope it was worth it, sir." At least Carter looked sympathetic. She turned to Scott. "Got any photos?"

Et tu, Carter?

"No, Colonel, but I can tell you that it must have been damned uncomfortable to run five miles in a G-string while carrying full field kit."

For a minute, I thought of calling for a nurse to bring bedpans. They were laughing so hard it looked like they were going to pee themselves.

"That's right. Enjoy yourselves at my expense. But just remember – next week I'll be back to being your boss." I smiled. The smile I gave Goa'ulds, aliens that poke me full of holes, and traitorous friends.

They sobered remarkably quickly.

Good.

Then I caught Daniel's eye, he caught mine, and we both doubled up, giggling and snorting like teenagers.

"There's something else I remember." I paled slightly when Scott spoke again.

Not the incident with the tennis racquet, please!

"Jack was one of the best students I ever had. He could run rings around the rest of his class when it came to the obstacle course, and I seem to remember he topped his class in just about every subject."

"Every subject?"

No need to sound so surprised, Carter.

"Come on, I thought you were going to show us your photos." I pointed at the album lying forgotten in his lap. "Put it up here. When did you retire?"

He answered me as he found a spot on the bed to put the large book. "It's getting on for twenty years."

"So there won't be any photos of Carter in there. Unless she's been lying about her age all this time."

"If she has, she's kept herself in much better shape than you have, Jack."

Hmph! Daniel is SO going to pay when I get out of here.

I rubbed my knee, and bent forward to join my friends as Scott turned the pages.

xoxoxoxoxo

It was three days before the ex Master Sergeant visited me again. He appeared at my door just as my lunch was being cleared away.

He moved into the room, speaking as he did so. "I'll be out of here soon. They're releasing me in a couple of days." He looked pleased, but there was something else there, something in his demeanour that sent warning signals down my spine.

I stood, gesturing to the small suitcase that was open on my bed. "I was going to come find you. I'm going home tomorrow and I wanted to say goodbye and wish you luck."

He nodded and smiled, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. Probably not looking forwarded to going back to an empty house.

I knew what that was like.

I limped over to the chair near the window, and gestured for him to pull the other one over. He did so and sat, looking out at the park.

"When are you going back on duty?"

I smiled, surprised at how much I missed the base. "In a week. Light duties only of course, but there aren't really any other sort for me these days."

"I never did ask you where you were stationed, Jack."

"I'm at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex."

"Norad? I'm surprised."

"Really? Why?"

Scott didn't answer, turning away from the view, and giving me a searching look.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, feeling his eyes on me, and reached down to massage my knee.

"Is it hurting?"

I mumbled something non-committal and there was a there was a pause, long enough to become a little uncomfortable, before he continued.

"I found another photo, Jack."

He pulled a picture from his pocket and handed it to me. I found myself looking once more at my younger self, but this time it was different. This time there was no hint of innocence in the face. I was unsmiling, obviously unaware the photo was being taken, my mouth set in a thin line as I stood, talking to an officer.

Ramsey.

I suddenly wanted Scott out of there. Wanted to be alone.

Shit!

The flash of memory was almost physically painful.

The arrival of a nurse solved my dilemma. With a few stern words about visiting hours and the need for patients to rest, with ruthless efficiency she began to usher Scott out of the room.

I stared at the photo.

"Mind if I stay." My visitor's quiet voice came almost as a shock. "I think we need to talk."

"Sorry. No you can't." The nurse cut across my answer, but I ignored her, surprising myself with my response.

"Sure."

"He can't..."

"Yes, he can." My tone brooked no argument, and she gave an irritated huff and left, shutting the door behind her with more than usual force.

I eyed the man sitting in the chair beside my bed, waiting for him to speak.

"I remember you. It all came back to me when I saw this photo."

"It did?"

"Damn right it did. I even followed your career for a bit until you dropped out of sight."

I watched his face, seeing the emotions flicker across it, before he straightened and turned back to the window, only his profile showing. The more I looked at him, the more the memories came back – some good, but some very bad – and I wondered if he was doing the same.

He broke the silence first.

"So your friends don't know?"

I stared back at him, my face impassive, trying to relax. "Know what?"

He scrubbed his right hand over his face, suddenly looking every inch his age. "I made it a point to find out. Hell – when one of my boys suddenly vanishes for weeks and comes back a changed person, of course I'd try to find out why. The first time I couldn't get any answers, but then when it just kept happening, and you were fast tracked through the course, I called in some favours." He paused. "I didn't like what I discovered."

My heart sank, but I tried to keep up the pretence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do, Jack." His tone broached no argument and I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I needed to know."

There was no point in carrying on with the charade, so I didn't try. I looked up.

"Why?" I could see the puzzlement in his eyes, so I clarified. "Why did you bother?"

He echoed my word. "Why? Because I could see what it was doing to you. Every time you came back you isolated yourself a little more from your classmates. You were a good kid. Top in your class, the sort that could do anything you set your mind to." He shifted, and sat forward, lowering his voice. "I often wondered if you volunteered."

"Shit, no!" I couldn't help recoiling from him, regretting it the minute the muscles in my knee reacted to the sudden movement. "Shit, if you had any idea what they got me to do, you'd never have asked that question."

"Sorry." Scot leaned forward, patting my arm in an obvious attempt to try and relax me. "It's just that you were such a promising kid and I thought you were throwing it all away, getting into that whole murky world of missions not talked about and never reported. Then after graduation, you were posted to Ramsey's unit straight from the Academy, I just assumed you had been chosen for a reason." He lowered his eyes and looked uncomfortable. "Colonel Ramsey had a certain reputation. Then you dropped out of sight, and I just forgot about you, and went on with my job. For a while I watched the notices, but I never saw any mention of you, and in the end I stopped looking."

I swallowed. Ramsey had approached me to join his team while I was still a cadet. At first I assumed it was because of my 'special duties', but then I found out that he knew nothing about the covert missions I had already been sent on even before I graduated. I suppose I was an expendable commodity, albeit one with a very peculiar talent for dealing with the government's dirty laundry. I was flattered by Ramsey's attention, thinking that he wanted me because of my marks. Even after what I had done, I was still just a naive kid, and I accepted his offer. It didn't take me long to work out that Ramsey's interest in me wasn't anything to do with my combat skills.

"What happened to you, Jack? Where did you vanish to?"

I shook my head and smiled a grim smile, thinking about death and killing and torture. Thinking about parachutes that don't open and endless stretches of desert, and the sounds of despair of men without hope and without freedom. Thinking about a snake digging its way into my mind, piece by agonising piece.

"You know I can't answer that, Scott."

"I have to admit that I never expected to see you again, but here you are – a general. It seems to have all worked out in the long run."

I held the photo back out to him. "Yes, it has."

He pushed it back at me. "Do what you want with it, Jack, it's yours." He rose, putting his weight on his walking stick and pushing himself up. "I'm glad we met again, it brought back some good memories."

I nodded, rising with him to walk him to the door. He was right, it had.

"I never did tell your friends about the incident with the tennis racquet."

I laughed as I closed the door after him. That was one story that would never be told as long as I had breath in my body. No way.

The photo of me with Ramsey lay on the table by the bed. I picked it up, looking at it, and now understanding what I had been too young to see at the time – Ramsey's predatory smirk.

I shuddered, and then I took hold of the top of the photo and tore it down the middle. Placing the two halves together I tore it again, and repeated my actions until all that remained of the picture were tiny, tiny pieces.

Then I flushed it down the toilet.


	12. Missing Pieces

Missing Pieces

I hobbled my way through the door, nodding at the young airman holding it for me, and feeling every day of my many years. There was a scurry of movement as Carter, Ferretti and Reynolds stood, waiting for me to laboriously take my seat at the head of the table.

"Here, sir." Hands pulled my chair out, and I tried not to glare at Ferretti's smiling face. What was he, less than ten years younger than me? Treating me like an old man!

I muttered an ungrateful "Thanks," and eased myself down, taking care not to bump my still very tender knee.

It wasn't until I picked the pen up from the top of the report on the tabletop that the unusual silence registered.

"Where's Daniel?"

Carter looked around the room as if she had just noticed her team mate's absence.

Oh come on now! I could almost see the cogs turning in her head as she searched desperately for an excuse that I hadn't already used with General Hammond to explain my wayward friend's tardiness. I cocked my head, and raised an eyebrow, giving her my most implacable general's stare, and she shifted uneasily, her eyes flickering to Teal'c as if mutely pleading for assistance.

Teal'c sat, eyes never wavering from mine, and I concealed a spark of glee. He wasn't playing. And he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

After all these years I could read them like a book.

"I don't know, General."

Ah – decided to go with the little used 'truth' strategy, Carter? A novel move, and one I had rarely utilised.

I frowned. "Well, given that he was going to brief us on the archaeological wonders of PF3-749, there doesn't seem to be any point in continuing this meeting." I pushed myself up, pulling my audience with me like puppets.

Except Teal'c.

He stayed, solidly sitting.

I eyed him.

He stared impassively back.

I sighed.

What was the point? He was twice my age, twice as experienced at command, and twice as fit.

I knew exactly where I stood with him. I had his respect and his friendship. I didn't need anything else.

I turned back to Carter.

"Find him. He better have a good reason for not being here. I don't want to hear that he slept in, or his car broke down. I want it to be much more inventive than that. I want to be entertained. Do you get my drift, Colonel?"

She nodded, and smiled. "I understand perfectly, sir."

"Good, Carter. My day needs to be enlivened. I have the quarterly reports to complete."

And with that I stumped off, dragging my aged limbs back to work.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The knock on my door was very welcome. There are just so many columns of figures and graphs that you can look at without going slightly insane.

"Colonel Carter, sir."

"Send her in, Walter."

Interesting. Carter, two hours later and still without Daniel.

"He hasn't signed in at all today, sir. He isn't at his apartment, and he isn't answering his cell." She sounded worried, and I had to admit to a slight feeling of unease, but I firmly squashed it down.

Daniel was an adult, and quite capable of looking after himself. There would be a totally logical explanation.

I turned the pages of the report on the top of the pile, feeling Carter's eyes on me.

"You should check with his friends." I nonchalantly threw out the suggestion.

She answered immediately, a small hint of exasperation in her voice. "I am, sir, but you haven't seen him and neither has Teal'c. Any idea who else I should contact?"

I thought about it for a moment and came up blank. Shit – we were a sad lot, really. Carter was right, we kept to ourselves, hiding here in the bowels of the earth. My life outside the mountain was almost as sterile as Daniel's. "Nope, can't think of anyone. What about the hospitals?"

I already knew the answer before she replied. "I've had them checked. His car is gone from outside his apartment."

"He could have been..." I waved my hands vaguely in the air, indicating an upward whoosh, knowing Carter would figure it out.

"Been abducted by aliens, sir?'

Was that snippiness I heard?

I nodded. "Stranger things have happened at sea, Carter." At her puzzled look, I hurried on, my supply of outdated sayings depleted by one. " Have you tried contacting Thor?"

"Yes. There was no answer, so I can only assume the Asgard aren't in the vicinity of Earth."

Of course, we both knew it wasn't just the Asgard that could have beamed Daniel up, but I refused to contemplate his being in the hands of the Goa'uld. We needed to look a little closer to home before we started panicking.

I tapped my pen on the desk, mentally running through options. Wait and see if Daniel turned up? Get Carter to do a little more hunting? Send in the investigators?

I stood, my decision made, and god help him if he came wandering in now. "Walter." I called, waiting for him to appear in the doorway before I continued. "Get Colonel Ferretti in here."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

A search of Daniel's apartment turned up no sign of the missing man. A team, under Lou Ferretti's command, was coordinating a search of the Colorado Springs area, while Carter was tracing Daniel's last known movements. I had the hardest task – trying to think what to say to the President if he hadn't been found in the next few hours. Explaining how I'd managed to lose our leading expert on alien cultures would not be easy.

As the hours stretched on, and the day lengthened into night up top, I became more and more concerned, which translated into my pacing the halls and trying not to glare at passing personnel. After the first couple of hours Carter very unsubtly hinted that if I didn't stop distracting her from her investigations, she would ...well, she didn't say what she would do, but I had my suspicions that only the risk of a court martial was preventing her from taking action. I backed away very quickly and retreated to my office. Ten minutes later I was pacing the corridors again.

I don't do waiting. Never have, never will. I don't know how Hammond stood it.

SG-5's return from an exploratory mission, one member absent and another with serious injuries, became a welcome distraction despite the ill fortune of the team and the urgency of the situation. The organisation of a rescue mission to extract the missing man from hostile locals took all my attention, and it was with some surprise that I caught a glimpse of a clock and saw that several hours had passed without my even thinking about my missing friend.

I reached for the phone.

"Carter, any word?"

I could visualise her look of worry and frustration when she answered. "No, sir. Nothing."

Damn! Where the hell was he?

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The buzzing of my cell woke me from a restless sleep. Pulling it from the nightstand, I held it up to my ear, yawning widely.

"O'Neill."

The voice was soft, and I was barely able to hear it through the background noise. "Jack."

I sat up, my muzzy head clearing immediately.

"Daniel? Are you all right? Where the hell are you?"

There was silence, and for a second I thought the connection had been cut, then there was a sound suspiciously like a sob on the line.

"I'm at the Mater Hospital."

"Why? Are you hurt?"

My frantic questions were interrupted before I could complete them.

"No, I'm okay." There was another pause. "Can you come?" My heart sank. His voice sounded lost, desolate. "I'm in Emergency."

I had barely time to say yes, before the clunk of a receiver being put down echoed in my ear.

The trip to the hospital passed in a blur, as my mind spiralled through all the possible reasons for Daniel being at a local hospital. I called Carter as I drove one handed, and gave her the few facts that I had. I rejected her offer to meet me, telling her that I would contact her with an update as soon as I knew anything. She would call Teal'c and Ferretti and hopefully manage to get some sleep, or if not sleep, at least some rest. There was no point in us all being awake.

I didn't even get into the hospital building before I saw him, a hunched over figure sitting on a bench near the entrance, hands stuffed into his overcoat pockets. He didn't look up, even when I sat beside him.

"Daniel?"

At least my voice got some reaction. A slow hand lifted up to eyes red and swollen, rubbing across them.

"Daniel? What is it? What's happened?" I kept my voice low and raised a hand to his shoulder. He was trembling.

He kept his eyes down and took a gulp of the cold night air as if steeling himself before saying what he had to say. "It's Catherine. She's..." He finally turned his head, and I saw a single tear track down his face, sliding over his skin to drop on his shoulder. "She's...dead."

Catherine? Maybe it was the lateness of the hour, maybe it was being woken up from sleep, restless though it had been, but I couldn't seem to get my head around his words. Catherine? The only Catherine I knew was Catherine Langford, but she was home in New York.

Wasn't she?

My heart sank.

"She had a heart attack. At her hotel. I should ring Ernest, but I just can't." The tear was joined by another. "I don't know what to say. How can I tell him?"

I gathered him in, holding him to me as he cried silently into my shoulder, and my memory flashed back to comforting Carter after Janet's death.

It never got any easier.

Suddenly Daniel straightened up, and pushed himself away from me.

"Sorry." He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand, the embarrassment obvious in his voice.

"Oh shit, Daniel, you've got nothing to be sorry for." I waited for a moment, until his posture relaxed, then touched his arm, bringing his attention back to me. "Want to tell me what happened? I didn't know Catherine was here."

He nodded, leaning back and shutting his eyes, his face lined with tiredness. "She arrived this morning. It was meant to be a surprise."

"A surprise? Didn't you know she was coming?"

"No – a surprise for you. We had planned a birthday..." His words trailed off. "God, Jack, I'm sorry."

It was my birthday in a couple of days time. Catherine hadn't been able to make the last one, even though most of my off world friends had. I hadn't planned anything this year, thinking that nothing could top the events of the last one, but obviously my team had other plans.

I lurched to my feet, my stomach turning somersaults, and took a few limping steps away from the bench.

She had been going to surprise me. If it wasn't for me, she would have been home, with Ernest. Maybe this would never have happened. Maybe she wouldn't have died. The stress of the trip had probably been too much for her.

She shouldn't be dead.

"Jack." The sound of Daniel's voice at my shoulder took me by surprise. "Hell, I shouldn't have said anything." There was a tug on my arm, and I reluctantly turned. "It isn't your fault."

I looked into his still tear filled eyes and saw the guilt, guilt that Daniel didn't need right now, so I pushed the knowledge of my own culpability into the far corner of my mind, and focused on my friend.

"Come on, we should go somewhere warmer." When he hesitated, I played the sympathy card, bending down to rub my knee. "What say we sit in my truck and you tell me what happened?"

I turned without waiting for an answer, leading him across the parking lot. Getting into the vehicle was much harder than I had expected, my leg feeling stiff and sore, and I welcomed Daniel's helping hand. He looked at me worriedly as he settled into the seat next to me.

"You okay?"

I nodded, massaging the joint, glad to be out of the wind. "What happened?"

"She died, Jack. I told you that!" He snapped out the words, then sighed. "Sorry."

I didn't answer, letting him take his time.

"I picked her up from the airport and took her to her hotel. She arrived on an early flight, and we'd planned to have breakfast together before I went to work." He stopped, and I saw his face turn pale. "She'd just started to unpack. She was showing me the present she bought you." His eyes flicked to me, and he hurried on. "There wasn't any warning...she just collapsed. I called 911 and did CPR, but she died before they even got her to the hospital...a massive heart attack they said."

"And you've been here ever since?"

He nodded. "I couldn't seem to leave."

I knew what that was like. Sitting in that small room they set aside for grieving relatives, hoping that it would all go away if you didn't do anything – didn't move – didn't think. As if you could hold time still. As if the reality of that small body on those bloody sheets would become some awful dream, and you would awaken to find everything back to the way it was – back to when your life hadn't changed so suddenly, and with such devastation.

Oh God!

I couldn't go there. I wouldn't.

My hand turned the key in the ignition, almost at its own volition.

"Come on, you've been here long enough."

And we drove away, leaving our dead behind.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The funeral was small, despite her many friends. It was the way Catherine had wanted it, her wishes made clear in a letter she had left for Ernest.

He held up well, his too frail frame held together by sheer willpower and determination, his emotions in check, but I wasn't fooled. He had been returned to us by a miracle of fate, and the last few years had been wonderful, but Catherine had been his driving force. I expected that he would shortly follow her, and knowing that, also knew we had no right to try and hold him back from that journey.

General Hammond was there, representing the President, but also as a friend. He stood beside me, emotionless on the outside, just as I knew I seemed, together in our neat blue uniforms, our medals shining.

Daniel spoke, his love for Catherine shining through his words, and when he returned to his seat he smiled back at Carter sitting beside him, and took her hand, offering his support as Catherine had offered hers to him so many times, Teal'c's strength and calm presence bolstering them both.

Her books and papers she had left to Daniel, almost the work of a lifetime just to go through them, but I knew that they would keep her memory alive, and when the time came, if it ever did, that the Stargate became common knowledge, they would be a testament to her unfailing search for answers to questions no one else had even known to ask.

The wake was filled with laughter and celebration of a life long lived and finally happy, and I joined in, repeating stories that Catherine had told me of her early adventures with her father, the parallels to Daniel's early years uncanny, but after a while I slipped away.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

For once I didn't care about appearances, taking a stool at the bar and ignoring the startled glances.

The whiskey did nothing to warm me.

I sat there, remembering another time and another place, before I knew what real responsibility for death was like, when taking lives was an impersonal process. Before my family and friends began to die around me.

And I stayed coldly sober until another warrior came and found me, to take me back.

"Come on, son. They're getting worried about you."

And I nodded and followed George out of that dimly lit room, back into the light that shone so brightly and exposed me to the world again.

The End 


	13. Another Perspective

  
Another Perspective   


The knock on my front door came as a complete surprise, but the sight of the person doing the knocking was even more so.

"Hi, Uncle Jack."

I stared, blurry eyed from too little sleep, at the teenage boy in front of me, complete with overfilled backpack.

Uncle Jack?

Unless I had a long lost sibling somewhere I knew nothing about, I was no one's uncle.

Then my eyes began to clear and I took in the lanky, skinny form, and the dark brown eyes peering out from beneath an unruly head of brown hair.

"Matthew?"

My cousin Ben's son gave me an embarrassed half smile, and nodded.

I moved to step around him, searching the front yard for his parents. Not a sign. Stepping back and opening the door wider, I gestured to him.

"You better come in and explain what's going on."

Settling myself on the lounge, I watched as he unhooked the pack from his back and sat, a soft sigh of relief his only verbal comment. He looked tired, footsore, and without asking I stood again, heading for the kitchen to return with a jug of juice and two glasses. I poured and pushed one across the coffee table towards him.

"Thanks." He finished it in one long swallow.

"Now, want to tell me what you're doing here?"

He held the glass, staring down at it. "Can I stay for a few days?"

This was the boy I had met only once before, a few months ago at my aunt's funeral, and he wanted to come visit? I restrained my natural inclination to just give an outright 'no.'

"Do your parents know you're here, Matt?"

He shook his head before lifting his eyes to stare defiantly up at me. "Nope, but I'm eighteen. I'm not some sort of little kid."

I snapped.

"Well, stop acting like one then, and tell me what the hell you're doing here."

It turned out that he'd had an argument with his parents about the normal things that all families with teenagers argue about – pushing his parents' patience as much as possible. Then he'd walked out.

Why in god's name he decided to come to me was what I couldn't understand. Even the fact that he knew my address was a surprise.

I was on the phone to his parents when I caught him, staring at the framed awards above the fireplace, and I remembered the expression on his face when I met him at the funeral. A little case of hero worship, maybe?

I handed him the receiver, and sat listening to the one sided conversation that consisted of the usual teenage grunts.

"Dad wants to talk to you, Uncle Jack."

And so I found myself with a house guest for the next three days until cousin Ben's wife Sally could get time off work to come fetch her lost waif.

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

Oiy!

I was putting on my shoes when I heard the bang of a cupboard door slamming shut.

Then another one.

Then the fridge.

Then another cupboard.

After a few minutes I couldn't take it anymore and headed for the kitchen, sure that I didn't have that many cupboards to open.

"I can't find anything to eat." Matt opened the cupboard above the sink and stared at the crockery.

Bang.

He frowned into the one next to it, the neat row of cans frowning back at him.

Bang.

The fridge obviously gave him no joy, holding only a carton of milk and some margarine.

Bang.

Back to the first cupboard.

What did he expect – that food had miraculously appeared in the few seconds since he last looked in there?

"I wasn't expecting company, and I was going to shop after I got home tonight." I tossed him a fifty from my wallet. "There's a supermarket a few blocks north. Get whatever you want. I won't be home until after six. We'll order pizzas."

"Great!" His face lit up at the idea of pizza, or it could have been the sight of the money. For a moment I wondered about the wisdom of leaving a teenager I knew nothing about alone in my home all day, but the sound of a car pulling up outside curtailed my thoughts.

"Sorry. I've got to go. Don't..." I hesitated. "Just....don't...ah...yeah, whatever." And with that articulate comment I opened the door, picking up my briefcase from the hall.

"Cool!" The long black car with the driver standing to attention next to the open door finally was something that met with his approval.

I drove off, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

"General, thank goodness you're here. The ambassadors from PL-009 are arguing again." Walter handed me my coffee as I exited the elevator, a harried look on his face. "There's a problem in the main lab – something about nanites, and the canteen chef is complaining again." He thrust a pile of folders towards me, holding them up as if in accusation. "And I found these on your desk, sir. You haven't even looked at them and the report needs to be in Washington by 1500 hours."

I took a long, and very welcome sip of my coffee, waiting while he juggled the folders to open the door, and walked into my office.

Oh, the joys of command!

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Unauthorised stargate activation!"

The klaxons sounded their warning as I pounded down the metal stairs to the Control Room.

"Any identification?"

The Lieutenant on duty kept his eyes on the computer screen in front of him as he answered. "No, sir, nothing."

"Close the iris." I mentally scanned through the list of teams currently offworld. None were due to contact base within the next ten hours, assuming of course that nothing had gone wrong. "Any ID yet, Sergeant?"

"No, sir."

SG-1 was one of those teams.

"Originating planet?"

"PX4-823"

That nice sunny world I'd sent Carter, Daniel and Teal'c to. What is it about milkruns that curdles them so quickly?

"Incoming traveller!"

All the eyes in the room turned to me, and the sergeant gave me the information I wanted before I'd even asked it.

"No ID, sir."

Damn.

They wouldn't come through without sending their IDC first. They knew the consequences.

Big splat. Bug on wideshield time.

Unless, of course, they had been forced to leave without their GDO's.

"General? Should I open the iris?"

Damn, damn, damn!

I shook my head. "No, Sergeant." and felt my heart drop into my boots at the thud that seemed so loud in the silence.

One.

Thud.

Two.

Thud.

Three.

I waited, but no more came.

"Try and establish radio contact with SG-1."

"Nothing, sir."

If the mission was going to plan they shouldn't be within communication range anyway, up in the hills at the nearest village. They were due to report in for twenty-four hours.

I ordered a wormhole opened and scanned the immediate area of the gate with the MALP that was already on the planet. Nothing. Nice and sunny. No sign of life, except for some birds circling above.

I couldn't justify sending another team through until we had more information.

"Thank you, Sergeant, try to contact them at hourly intervals. I want an analysis of the debris as soon as possible. I'll be in my office."

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

Sitting around sucks.

I signed off on another equipment request from the research labs, placing it on the pile of completed work, and stretched, easing some of the tension from my shoulders. A glance at my watch told me it had been only thirty minutes since the stargate activated, but it felt like hours. I was picking up the next file when there was a knock on the door.

"Come."

Doctor Lee entered, waving a page. He didn't give me time to ask, launching into an excited explanation.

"It wasn't SG-1, General. There were remains of possibly three life forms, but from the analysis it couldn't be SG-1. The remnants show significant differences to either Earth humans or Jaffa."

Thank god! I let out the breath I hadn't realised I was holding, and nodded, keeping my face impassive. Regardless of the results, my team was still out there with who knew what between them and the gate. I dismissed the scientist with a few words of thanks, and got back to work.

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

Five hours later, SG-1 came home.

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Hey, guys. Where've you been?"

"On PX4-823, O'Neill."

Gotta love that Jaffa humor. I looked at Teal'c and he just looked back, so I turned my attention to Colonel Carter, raising an eyebrow.

"The mission was uneventful, sir..." She paused at the snort of disbelief from Daniel. "Up to a certain point that is. The village was abandoned. It looked like it had been attacked sometime within the last year. There was no sign of any inhabitants."

"That's when it started to get interesting." Daniel interrupted, but Carter ignored him, continuing with her report.

"We investigated the village as thoroughly as we were able, and determined there was nothing of interest."

"So no big, honking Goa'uld killing weapons?"

"No, sir." Carter smiled at my witty comment. She had to, I'm her boss. "I made the decision to return to the SGC early, and we headed back to the gate. We found it surrounded by large winged reptiles."

Daniel began waving his arms around. "They were remarkably like the dragons of ancient folklore, Jack. Really big with leathery wings. Four legs. Big, very big teeth. Sharp teeth."

"Did they breath fire? "It was a serious question, but Daniel threw me a disgusted look anyway.

"No, O'Neill. They did not. However in appearance they were similar to the creature described in the book 'The Hobbit'."

"Cool!" My expansion of Teal'c's reading list was paying off.

Carter put the briefing back on track. "We watched for a while, and eventually they left. We managed to get to the DHD and open the gate, but the sound must have attracted them, because they came back. We took cover again and several of the smaller creatures flew into the gate."

"Three." They all looked at me, and I explained. "There were three of them."

"Ah." Daniel was the only one that spoke, and even he only made a small sound of understanding. No one needed to spell it out.

"We detonated some C4 Teal'c planted some distance from our hiding place, and when they went to investigate, made another try at the gate. This time we got through."

I smiled, and they smiled back. "Yes. Yes you did. You hungry? I was going to get something, want to join me?"

"I would be pleased to join you, O'Neill."

"Sure, sir."

"Lead the way."

It was good to have them back.

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

I had almost forgotten I had a guest. That was until I saw the state of my lounge room.

"Matthew!"

There was a startled yelp from the large bundle of smelly teenager on the couch. The pizza box slipped off his stomach, tipping cold pizza slices from it to join the beer bottles on the carpet.

"Hi, Uncle Jack." He sat up, blurry eyed, rubbing his face. "I waited, but you didn't come home and I didn't have a number to contact you at, so I went ahead and ordered pizza. I got one for you too. I hope you like olives." He gestured to the other chair, and I saw another pizza box, open, with a lone slice sitting in it. I picked it up, glaring at the grease stain on the chair fabric.

"Ah, sorry." Matthew looked confused for moment, then his face cleared as if a memory had surfaced. "I was real hungry."

"And thirsty I see." I counted at least four empty bottles.

"So how was work, Uncle Jack?"

Diversionary Tactics 101, and he wasn't even military.

"Good."

He smiled, nodding, assuming it was working. "What did you do all day? Secret NORAD stuff?"

"No." I bent, picking up the other box and placing it on top of the one I already held. "I mainly did paperwork in my office all day. Nothing exciting." That's if you don't count exploding dragons messing up your workplace. "Now, how about you get this mess cleaned up."

I don't think he wanted to.

Well, too bad.

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

"What's on the agenda for today, Walter?"

I yawned into my coffee. Being kept awake by screeching banshees spewing words I hadn't heard since boot camp didn't do anything to improve my alertness or my temper. What sort of name was 'Slipknot' for a band anyway? Although after an hour of listening to them I did feel like strangling them.

"The Russian and Chinese liaisons' visit, General."

"Oh god! Say it isn't so!" I groaned into my hands.

Walter had the decency to look sympathetic. "Sorry, sir. They're due at noon. For lunch."

"Lunch?"

"Yes, sir." He reached into his folder and drew out a page, putting it on the desk. "You have to approve the menu."

"Approve the menu?" I stared at it, hoping it would turn into something I actually understood. There, side by side, were two totally different and opposing food selections running over several paragraphs. Borsch or short soup? Chicken Kiev or Peking Duck? Maybe borsch and the duck? Would I be the cause of World War Three?

"And there's a problem with the seating arrangements."

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

This time the house was tidy. And quiet.

That's because Matthew wasn't in it.

I was very restrained. I didn't call his parents. I was young once too, and he was eighteen. So I sat and waited, getting more and more annoyed. When he rolled in at 2am accompanied by two girls that my Aunt Beatrice would have called hussies, I was very restrained as well. I didn't kill him. Apparently he had thoughtfully provided a girl for me too. Nice of him. The fact that they were all of twenty, with skirts short enough to show their navels sort of put me off. Funny that.

I told the girls to leave, and cleaned him up, hosing him down with cold water and taking great pleasure in the groans of protest. Then I poured him into bed and got a couple of hours sleep before my car came for me in the morning.

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

"You look a bit tired, Jack. Someone keeping you up?" I swear Daniel leered at me.

"You could say that." I didn't elaborate. I have never really talked about my private life to my team, and I had no intention of starting now. Let them think what they wanted. Anyway, Daniel was just annoyed at not having to translate at the meeting yesterday. He was even more annoyed that I had to explain a couple of points to him that the Chinese representative brought up. His Mandarin wasn't quite up to the level of understanding complicated issues yet.

Poor boy – he'd get over it.

I pulled the stack of papers on the Briefing Room table towards me, looking at them even though I knew them by heart.

"Let's begin, shall we?" The eight people seated around the table all looked up as I spoke. "Supreme Commander Thor is due to arrive in two hours and we have a lot to get through before that. We need to iron out some points in this proposal before Thor and I meet with the President this afternoon."

It was going to be another long day.

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

Matthew took the plate I handed him, eyeing the large, rare steak with some trepidation. He still looked a little delicate after last night.

Good.

I served myself a smaller piece, somewhat full after afternoon tea at the White House with Thor and the President. Thor had brought some food with him, the President having made the mistake of showing interest in Asgard cuisine. I had tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen, and it wasn't as if those yellow squares were actually poisonous. Just very, very horrible.

I could still feel them in my stomach, sitting there like large rocks. Combine them with the cream cakes and I was not in the mood for dinner.

"How was your day Matthew?" I swallowed a tiny bit of meat and tried to look interested in his answer. I had read him the riot act in a phone call when I decided he should be awake, and warned him that if he so much as set foot off of my property boundary I would tell his parents the full story of last night. Then I left him a list of chores. They had all been done.

"Boring, Uncle Jack. There isn't much happening around here."

"Nope. Guess not."

We each munched on unhappily.

"What about your day?"

I put my fork down and took a sip of water. "I had a meeting to attend, so at least I got out of the office for a change." Yeap – those Asgard transporter beams certainly made travelling to Washington a breeze.

"Cool."

We lapsed into silence again.

I could hardly keep my eyes open. "I'm having an early night. Make sure you do the dishes before you go to bed, and keep the noise down. Okay?"

He sullenly nodded, and I limped off to my bedroom for hopefully the first decent night's sleep I'd had in days.

 xoxoxoxoxoxo

Sally hugged her son to her. Despite only coming up to his armpit, she gave the impression of fierce protectiveness, and I didn't see any hesitation as he hugged back.

"Thank your Uncle Jack for looking after you, Matthew."

"That's okay, Sally. It was a pleasure having him. He was no trouble." I enjoyed the flush of embarrassment on his face at my comment.

"Yeah, thanks, Uncle Jack." He mumbled very unenthusiastically.

"Did you have a good time, Matt? Maybe you could come back for a holiday if Jack doesn't mind."

Both Matthew and I looked at her, and I imagine my expression was identical to the one on his face – horrified.

"Ah...I think he found it a bit boring here, Sally. I lead a pretty unexciting life."

"Yeah, Mom. All Uncle Jack does is do paperwork and go to meetings. And he goes to bed real early."

Now it was Sally's turn to look embarrassed. "I'm sure it can't be that bad, Matt."

"I'm afraid so. And I wouldn't be able to take time off to show him around the Springs. Pity, but that's the way it is."

She smiled, obviously just happy to have her boy back safe and sound. "Thanks again, Jack. Ben and I really appreciate you letting him stay."

"No problem." I grabbed Matt's bag. "Here, let me help you."

Within a few minutes I was waving a farewell as they drove away.

Thank goodness. My life could get back to normal.

My cell rang just as I turned to go back inside.

"O'Neill."

"Colonel Reynolds here, General. We have a problem with SG-4."

SG-4. They were reconnoitring a mining operation on a Goa'uld held world. Hell!

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Just another boring day at the office.


	14. Misconceptions a General Jack Christmas...

Misconceptions - A General Jack Christmas special

"You'll only be gone three days, sir?"

I was perversely gratified to hear the worried tone in Walter's voice.

"Yes, Sergeant, I'll be back on Friday."

For a second it looked like he was actually going to ask me to promise, but then he blinked and the moment was gone. I tucked the papers he handed me into my already overflowing briefcase, and closed it decisively, giving him a challenging smile. He avoided my gaze as he placed another report back on my desk, looking disappointed. Well, he'd just have to get over the disappointment – I wasn't going to spend any spare time I had in Washington reading his damned files. I grinned at him, and he nodded, accepting defeat.

I pulled the briefcase from my desk, grimacing at its weight, and looked around, checking I hadn't forgotten anything. My bag, along with the Airman I had agreed to take as my aide, was already in the car, and so with nothing left to delay me, I headed for the elevator.

"Jack!" Footsteps pounded down the corridor as Daniel's familiar voice stopped me in my tracks. "I thought I'd missed you."

"I'm just leaving, Daniel." I glanced at my watch as I turned to face him. "I'm already running late."

"You are only going to be gone three days, aren't you, Jack?"

What was it with everyone today? I couldn't help the note of exasperation that crept into my reply. "Yes. Three days. I'm sure you can cope."

"It's just that a lot can happen in three days, especially around here."

"Well, if it does, Colonel Reynolds can handle it." I looked at my watch again, and stepped into the waiting elevator car. "Sorry, Daniel, I've got to go or I'll miss my plane. Stay out of trouble, and I'll see you Friday." The doors shut and cut off whatever he was saying.

Thank goodness. I really was late. SG-7 had returned from off world battered and shaken and their debriefing had taken longer than expected, the decision to remove PX9-543 from the dialling computer not difficult after their description of the extreme weather conditions they experienced several miles from the gate.

Damn, but these elevators were slow.

Waiting on Level Eleven to travel the rest of the way to the surface I ignored the bustle of personnel around me. Finally the doors opened, seemingly in slow motion, and I stepped back to allow the stream of people inside to exit.

"General O'Neill."

"Hi, T. Going down?"

He inclined his head in that regal sort of way he had always had. "I was, but now I shall accompany you to the surface, if you permit."

I moved in and towards the rear to where Teal'c stood casually at ease, his hands clasped behind his back.

"So what's up?"

"You, it seems. You are leaving for Washington?"

"Yes." I couldn't help the almost instinctive reaction, looking at my watch yet again.

"You will be gone for three days?"

I nodded, trying to stay calm. "Yes, that's right, three days." The elevator slid to a gentle halt and I moved towards the opening doors. "See ya, T. Stay out of trouble."

His reply followed me down the corridor. "I shall endeavour to do so. However it is you who tends to find trouble on trips to Washington, O'Neill"

Oh, very amusing.

I ignored him, hurrying out to the waiting car.

xoxoxoxoxo

By the time I settled myself into my seat on the plane I was one very annoyed general. Everything had conspired to delay me, from the traffic to Peterson to the snippy Senior Airman that insisted on double-checking my aide's papers before allowing him to board.

"You look flustered, Jack." General Kerrigan folded his newspaper and wiggled slightly in his seat, giving me more room. "I was worried you weren't going to make it."

"You and me both, Brian." I breathed deeply, relaxing. "It's been one hell of a week."

He smirked back at me. "And it isn't going to get any better. Lots of lovely meetings, and we both know how much you enjoy them."

I gave him that nasty little smile I reserve for special occasions. "They do say misery loves company. That's why I suggested you be included in the discussions." He opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted. "No need to thank me, Brian, I'm sure you'd do the same for me."

"You've got that right, you evil bastard." He laughed loudly, causing a few curious heads to turn. "I'll return the favour as soon as I can."

He opened his newspaper again, and I reluctantly took a report from my briefcase and settled in for the flight.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will be landing in a few minutes."

What?

I scrubbed my hand across my eyes, trying to wake myself up. Straightening from the slouched position I found myself in, I took the unread report from the seat tray and replaced it in my briefcase, before putting the tray up. Beside me, Kerrigan was doing the same thing.

I gave him an apologetic half smile. "Sorry about that, Brian. I wasn't very good company."

"That's okay, Jack. You obviously needed the rest." I thought I detected a note of concern in his voice. "The SGC keeping you busy?"

"You could say that." I swallowed a yawn. Over the last few weeks I'd barely had time to pop home at all, and had to have my mail redirected to the Base. It was getting to the point where I was seriously considering selling my house and buying a small storage room down on Sublevel 31.

Moments later there was a soft bump as the plane met the runaway and taxied to a stop. Outside the window a light rain fell, the day gloomy and overcast, and as soon as we exited the aircraft the wind hit. I grabbed my hat, holding it firmly, and shivered. Washington in December, cold and wet, but at least it was warmer than Colorado Springs.

I suppose there was something to be grateful for.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"I'll be sure to take that under advisement, General O'Neill."

I gritted my teeth and smiled, trying to act like I hadn't heard that phrase just once too many times over the past two days.

"Come on, Jack. Let's get some coffee." Brian Kerrigan nudged my arm, and I nodded a polite farewell to the members to the committee. At least I felt like we were finally getting somewhere. The plans for new training of SGC recruits had been thrashed out with Brian and a group of Air Force experts, and the funding had tentatively been agreed to. Expansion of the new Alpha Site was partly organised, with just a few details to be sorted. Really, I didn't have much to complain about. The next thing on the agenda was an evaluation of some new weaponry. I'd be handling that myself as Brian had his own upper echelons to glad hand.

"We had coffee in there, Brian." I nodded my head towards the room we had just left.

"That sludge wasn't coffee. That was the leftover fuel they've worked out a way to use as a cost cutting measure. No, what we need is real coffee."

"You're beginning to sound like Daniel."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too"

"Dee two."

Damned infantile sense of humor. I sniggered and followed him down the corridor, assuming he knew where he was going.

Several turns, two flights of stairs, and a couple of security checkpoints later, we had almost made it to a cafeteria. Why we couldn't have stopped at one of the three we had passed, I don't know, but Brian assured me this one had the best coffee.

The sound of a door slamming on my left was accompanied by the impact of a shoulder in my back.

Whumph!

Crap!

I spun, flexing my hands into a defensive position, only to come face to face with an officer in dress blues with a frown on his face that could have melted the brass off my shoulders. It took me a second before I recognised him, and as the glare focussed on me, I stepped back.

"Colonel O'Neil."

His anger didn't seem to dissipate at my ability to recognise him. If anything it only managed to intensify it. I had no idea as to its cause, but then again, O'Neil had never really been one to need one.

"O'Neill!" He stared at me, up and down, dismissively. "It's been awhile. Haven't seen you since that containment situation you deep space radar boys thought was so dangerous."

Suddenly his expression changed, and I realised his gaze had landed on the stars on my shoulders. A vein began to pump in his forehead as he stood there.

"Colonel…" I began, trying to warn him off, but it was too late.

"General. You made a general. While I've been fighting in the Middle East, you've been sitting behind some desk, and you get promoted." His voice rose, and the people passing in the corridor began to take notice, pausing then hurrying on as they met my eyes.

"Colonel!" Brian Kerrigan stepped in front of me before I could answer. "In here." He pulled the belligerent man into an empty meeting room and I followed, seething.

"Now, would you care to explain just what in the hell you mean by talking to General O'Neill like that, before I have you up on charges?" Brian easily matched O'Neil in the anger stakes.

"Only if you tell me why I get pulled out of Fallujah, made to leave my company behind, chewed out for something that wasn't my fault, and given a rap on the knuckles after fighting on the front line for twelve months, and here's this …" He poked his finger at me, stabbing the air. " …this pen pusher who hides under a mountain while the real men are dying… gets promoted." He shoved his body forward, only stopped by Brian's hand on his chest. "What are you doing to protect our country, sitting back in a comfortable, safe assignment? A lot of good your deep space radar did when they crashed those planes."

I felt a shiver of ice run up my spine at his words, and I straightened, staring down at him, knowing that if I spoke I would say or do something I would regret. Marine Colonel James O'Neil had always been a thorn in my side, and I in his. He was an irritating, boring, man with no sense of humor whatsoever, and I had counted myself fortunate to not have much to do with him. Our paths had rarely crossed – the last time was almost two years ago, when those invisible psychedelic bugs had showed up and O'Neil and his men helped sweep and contain the area around the Springs. We had barely spoken two words to each other then, both uncomfortable enough to keep out of the other's way as much as possible.

Brian Kerrigan visibly tensed, looking at me, obviously wondering how I was going to respond.

I couldn't.

I couldn't respond. What could I say? That the SGC had been defending our country for years, along with the rest of the planet? That we had lost men in the battle, some in ways too horrible to contemplate? That everyone under that mountain was a hero in his or her own way?

I didn't expect much recognition for our efforts given the veil of secrecy over the Stargate, but I certainly didn't expect to be pilloried in the corridor of the Pentagon. I couldn't afford to let my emotions influence me – too much was at stake. One careless word in the wrong ear and the whole program could be jeopardised.

I replied calmly, not taking my eyes off O'Neil's. "I won't take this incident to your commanding officer, Colonel, but I'm warning you – stay out of my way from now on." He dropped his eyes and I turned my attention to Kerrigan. "Come on, we have a meeting to get to." I heard my companion let out a breath in a long sigh at my words, and he dropped his hand, releasing the furious Colonel.

I had begun to turn when O'Neil reacted, his voice raised and vehement.

"That's right – run. You haven't got an answer, have you? What did you get those medals for? Brown nosing in Washington?"

To my surprise Brian was the one to move first. The normally even tempered man spun, grabbing O'Neil by the lapels and shaking him.

"How dare you talk to General O'Neill like that! You've got no idea what you're talking about…"

"Brian." I grabbed his hands, pulling them off the other man. "That's enough." His hands were clenched into fists, and they were visibly shaking with anger. "He isn't worth it."

I was relieved when Brian nodded, and as he relaxed I stepped away.

"Colonel O'Neil." His head came up and he stiffened instinctively at my bark of command. "I have changed my mind. I will be reporting this incident to your commander. Your return to this country for disciplinary reasons, combined with your display of insubordination to a senior officer, will have serious repercussions on your career. I suggest you consider other career options as soon as possible." With that I turned smartly on my heels and left the room.

We strode in silence up the corridor until we reached a relatively quiet part of the complex. All the way the indignation coming from Brian was an almost physical presence, so I found an exit leading to a small outside paved area and motioned him to follow. The day had improved – at least it wasn't raining – but it was still bitterly cold and I shivered as I waited for him to join me on the bench near the door.

He was the first to break the silence. "I don't know how you just stood there and took that, Jack. I have to say I'm surprised."

I brushed a few small pieces of lint from my trouser legs. "There wasn't much else I could do. There was no way I could defend myself or my command without giving him information he hasn't access to."

He shook his head. "That's not really the point though, is it? He shouldn't have spoken to a superior officer like that."

I stood, pushing my hands into my jacket pockets. "No, he shouldn't have, but put yourself in his shoes. He's been stationed in Iraq for how long…probably losing friends to the fighting. He's been recalled for goodness knows what, but obviously has a problem with it…probably feels he's let his men down, and here I am, someone he's always disliked, promoted and …" I tapped my breast. "…dripping with medals. I can see his point, can't you?"

Brian stood, pacing a few steps away, frowning. "He should know better than to take things at face value."

"Having we all been guilty of that at times? Don't tell me you haven't looked at some of the officers we've passed in the corridor here and wondered how they got to the rank they have as glorified bureaucrats?"

"Of course I have, Jack, but those aren't the sort of medals you get for sitting on your butt."

"Perhaps not, and I'm not trying to excuse O'Neil, but I do understand him. In his position I may have done the same thing."

"I doubt it."

I smiled, avoiding his eyes. Yes, I doubted it too. I might have been tempted to say something, but I hoped commonsense would have prevailed. I had a reputation for hot temperedness, but I usually thought before I spoke, and considered the consequences, something O'Neil obviously hadn't done.

"Damn! Look at the time."

At Brian's exclamation, I looked at my watch. Hell! I didn't know about Kerrigan, but I only had three minutes to make it to my next meeting. We took off running – well, not running exactly – generals don't run through the Pentagon corridors, but certainly walking briskly.

Very briskly.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

That night, I went to bed early, but despite my tiredness, lay staring up at the nondescript hotel ceiling for hours.

I knew my job was important. I enjoyed it. Even, I had to secretly admit, the more mundane aspects of it.

Sure the medals and commendations were nice, but they were a bonus, not something I expected, or needed. I wasn't in it for the glory.

So why did I feel so damned unappreciated?

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"I'll give you a call, Brian." I smiled as I undid my seat belt. "We'll get together for a drink."

"Sure, Jack, that would be good. Assuming we can fit it into our schedules."

Unfortunately I knew he wasn't joking, so I only grunted my agreement and picked up my extremely over filled briefcase, standing as the plane's engines powered down.

"I'm glad to be home. I don't think my wife would forgive me if I was late tonight. We'll have enough trouble getting the kids to bed as it is."

I nodded, checking I hadn't left anything behind. By the time I had organised myself Brian was already at the exit, obviously anxious to get home.

There was a heavy sprinkling of snow on my waiting car, and I felt a pang of pity for the driver, made to wait for a storm-delayed aircraft. My aide took the front passenger seat as I slid into the back, nodding my thanks as the door was shut behind me. The interior was warm, and I began to thaw immediately.

"Drop me at my house, please Airman."

Eyes met mine in the rear view mirror.

"Yes, sir." I thought I detected a note of anxiety in the voice, but dismissed it as being caused by the pressure of driving a general around in what looked like a storm that was developing into a blizzard. I settled back into the seat, yawning. The last few days had been almost as tiring as an off world mission had been back in the good old days when I still went on them. I could feel myself drifting off to sleep, so I straightened up and made a conscious effort to stay alert, peering out at the deepening gloom.

By the time we got to my house and the car, complete with driver and aide disappeared into the distance, I was almost dead on my feet. I stumbled as I opened the door, slipping slightly on the icy step and barely stopping myself from falling by grabbing at the hall table. My hand twinged in protest, and rubbing it, I made my way into the lounge room, practically falling into my favourite armchair. It wasn't until I had kicked off my shoes that I realised I should have turned on the heat and gotten myself a coffee before I sat down. I felt another twinge, this time from my wrist and in another moment of introspection I decided that one thing I had noticed about getting old was that every part of my body was now an individual entity, with its own idiosyncrasies and needs. I remembered when my body ran like a well oiled machine, a machine that I barely noticed except in times of extraordinary crisis, each part just a tiny bit of the whole. Now the machine was shouting for attention, bits breaking down at the drop of a hat.

The beep of my telephone broke into my thoughts. For a moment I contemplated ignoring it, but only for a moment. With a heavy sigh I got up, muttering, to answer it.

"O'Neill." I know my tone was probably curt, but not only was I tired, my hand was beginning to hurt a lot more. I'd probably sprained it, knowing my luck.

"You're home."

"Yes, Daniel. That would be why I'm answering the phone." I wandered back to the couch.

"I've been a bit worried. I thought you were due back hours ago."

"The flight was delayed." I yawned. "Was there something you wanted, because I'm thinking of having an early night."

There was a pause before he answered. "But it's only six."

"Your point is what?" I yawned again, almost cracking my jawbone.

"Isn't it a bit early to go to bed? I thought you were coming straight back to the base, and I'd arranged with Sam and Teal'c to go out somewhere for dinner."

"That's just peachy, Daniel. I'm pleased you have people willing to put up with you for a whole meal, but I'm tired and I'm heading for bed." I waited for a minute, hearing nothing from the other end of the line, my temper getting shorter by the second. "Okay then, it was nice talking to you. Let's do it again sometime."

I was a hair's breadth from disconnecting when I heard what sounded like a shout. Groaning with frustration, I put the phone back up to my ear.

"What is it now?"

"You can't."

"Can't what?"

"You can't go to bed early."

"I can, Daniel, and I have every intention of doing so." I could picture the expression on his face, so I tried to keep my tone level. "Look – I appreciate the invitation, but I'm tired and I wouldn't be very good company. Why don't you go enjoy yourself, and tell the others I'll join you all another time – soon, I promise."

"No."

"No?" Now I was beginning to get angry. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"You have to come in."

Daniel had lowered his voice, and I was finding it difficult to hear him. I responded by doing what any overtired, cranky person would do – raising mine.

"Why do I have to come in?" Then I stopped, thinking. "What's wrong? What aren't you telling me?"

His voice became even softer, and muffled, as if something was being held over the phone. "Nothing's wrong, but trust me on this, you should come in tonight."

Now he really did have me worried. I walked to the window, pulling the drapes aside. The snow had eased, the storm apparently over.

"All right, I'll be there as soon as I can."

The problem must be something Daniel couldn't discuss on an unsecured line. I couldn't even imagine what it could be.

Actually I could. Images of rival warring aliens enacting a civil war in the meeting room seemed all too likely for comfort. Maybe the Tok'ra had to abandon another base, and had come, cap in hand, asking for help after ignoring us for months. There could be surprise visit from some VIP. Who knew. There was no point speculating.

I didn't bother changing, just jumped into my truck and went.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

I didn't encounter any escaped aliens on the way into the mountain, and by the time I had reached my office, I was beyond annoyed. Only a few personnel had passed me in the corridors and they had all seemed to be focused on their duties, merely acknowledging me before hurrying on. While it was nice to see the SGC running so efficiently, I had hoped for a bit more acknowledgement of my return.

And where the hell was Daniel?

I pushed open my office door, and stopped dead. There, sitting in the middle of my desk was a colourfully wrapped parcel, a large envelope propped up against it.

I approached it cautiously, poking the strangely shaped object with my index finger. When it didn't explode or morph into something, I took up the envelope, opening it with one eye warily on the parcel.

I found a picture of a Christmas tree, topped by tasteful gold writing. "Merry Christmas."

Oh crap!

A glance at my desk calendar confirmed it – December Twenty-four – Christmas Eve. When had this happened? I hadn't even noticed November turning in December, let alone Christmas racing up behind me.

"Ah…" I turned, card in hand, to find SG-1 standing in the doorway, Daniel at the forefront. "Hi there, Jack." He gestured at the gift. "You going to open it?"

"Read the card first, sir." Carter was smiling that slightly uncertain smile she had when she wasn't sure of my reaction to something.

I opened it.

Hand written Christmas greetings covered the entire surface. It looked like every person in the SGC had signed it.

I stared at it in disbelief.

"Open the gift, O'Neill."

I looked from Teal'c to the present and back again, before nodding slowly.

It was heavy, with a strange angular shape. I carefully unwrapped it and found myself holding a perfect copy of the Stargate, each glyph carved in loving detail. A small plaque fronted the rich mahogany base, and I held it up to the light, trying to look like my eyes weren't watering. "To Jack O'Neill, an Extraordinary General. Merry Christmas from the SGC."

I opened my mouth, dumbfounded, for once completely at a loss for words.

Then the correct response came to me. I put the statue down on my desk and opened my arms wide.

"Come on, kids, group hug." Not giving them a chance to object, I gathered all three of them in. Carter hesitated for a second then hugged back, giggling, Daniel gave me a couple of stiff pats on the back, laughing, and Teal'c almost crushed my ribs in his enthusiasm.

We stayed like that for a few moments then I broke away, grinning.

"Come on, Jack. We've got a party to get to." Daniel matched me grin for grin.

"A party? Where?" Suddenly I was wide awake for the first time in hours.

"Here, sir. Walter planned it when he realised you'd forgotten how close to Christmas it was. He's set it up in the Mess Hall. Everyone's helped."

"Indeed, O'Neill. Sergeant Davis has shown remarkable organisational ability. He mentioned that his time as your assistant has been invaluable."

Now all three of them were grinning, even Teal'c.

We headed for the elevator.

"We were worried when you didn't come back at the scheduled time, then your driver said he'd dropped you at your house instead of here, and when I called and you said you weren't coming in…" Daniel left the sentence unfinished, but I could imagine the consternation that had caused.

Carter swiped her access card in the slot by the elevator. "How was Washington, sir?"

I shook my head as the doors opened. "I'd rather not talk about Washington, Colonel." I smiled at my team and relaxed, leaning against the side of the car. "Let's just say it's really good to be home."


	15. Waking the Spirit

This is for Lydia2, who asked me to update. Sorry - I was busy writing other SG fics, and took a break from General Jack. I hope you enjoy this one, Lydia.

Flatkatsi

Waking the Spirit – General Jack Year Two – Part Fifteen.

"Alright T, what's bothering you?" I asked, sitting down on a side bench, shucking my headgear and gloves

"There is nothing wrong, O'Neill"

"Then how come I just kicked your ass?"

Teal'c answered with a raised eyebrow and a look that would have intimidated a lesser man, but being The Man I wasn't fazed at all.

"Come on, don't give me that look. What's up? You can't tell me you weren't distracted. When was the last time I beat you?"

"You did not beat me this time, O'Neill. Your punches merely connected lightly with my torso."

I didn't bother arguing, figuring that my raised eyebrow was comment enough. We continued undressing in silence, and headed for the showers. The water drumming on the tiles almost drowned out the quiet voice from the next shower stall. Something about Bra'tac? I shook water from my ears and leaned my head around the corner.

"Huh?"

"I was answering your question, O'Neill."

Okay.

I waited for more, but nothing came except the slap of soap on wet skin. The front of my body was getting cold while the hot water pounded my back, so I retreated and squeezed some shampoo onto my hair.

"He….talk…last time I…" mumble, mutter, inaudible words… I paused for a second, but couldn't hear any better, so I rubbed my hair harder, preparing to rinse off.

My eyes snapped open involuntarily as I felt the unmistakable presence of another person in my personal space, and I yelped as the shampoo ran into them.

"Are you alright, O'Neill?" Teal'c's voice rumbled from way too close.

I backed into the corner, frantically wiping my stinging eyes with my hands. "Fine."

"You were correct, there is something which concerns me. Perhaps we can discuss it?"

What? Here? Now? Of course he chooses the middle of a shower to bare his soul, along with everything else! I felt myself starting to panic, visions of the SG-3 marines coming back from their mission and hitting the showers dancing in my head.

"Sure, just let me get rinsed off and then we can go and find somewhere quiet." There, diplomatic to a fault.

"Is this not quiet enough?"

I'd swear if I didn't know better, that he was doing this on purpose.

Is that voices I hear? Crap!

"Soap in my eyes here. Gotta rinse." And I began a furiously vigorous washing designed to make maximum use of the limited space, elbows out.

There was a slight 'hmph'.

"Very well. I shall dress and wait for you to finish, O'Neill."

I cautiously cracked an eye open to confirm he had left, and rapidly finished my shower. A quick dry and I draped a towel around my hips and stepped out to find the change room filled with the members of SG-3.

For some reason the chatter died away completely, replaced by a few smiles and greetings. Teal'c was dressed and waiting, so I quickly changed, attempting to not worry.

As we walked along the corridor to the elevators, I tried to broach the subject that was foremost on my mind without being too obvious about it.

"Ah…T?"

"Yes, O'Neill?"

"Were SG-3 there when you got out of the shower?"

"No, O'Neill. They had not entered the room." He gave me a sideways glance. "Why do you wish to know?"

I smiled, relieved beyond words. "No reason, just wondered. So, my office?"

He accepted with an inclination of his head.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

I settled into my chair with a sigh of contentment. This was my office, and I felt comfortable with everything in it—from the photos hanging on the walls, to the books on the shelves. Even the files on the desk were as familiar as old friends.

Teal'c hadn't waited for permission, instead slipping into the visitor's chair as soon as he closed the door. I barely had time to sit back before he spoke.

"I am concerned about Master Bra'tac."

Last I saw the old Jaffa he was in fine health and as devious as ever.

"Why?"

Teal'c stared me straight in the eyes in that disconcerting way he had when he was worried. "I am not sure."

Okaaay.

I waited.

He didn't speak.

After a couple of minutes I decided the direct approach was the best.

"Work with me here, T. I'm not a mind reader you know."

He shifted uncomfortably, and that in itself was enough to concern me.

"Master Bra'tac was not his normal self when I last visited him."

"Not ornery and annoying?"

At Teal'c's disappointed look, I put my hands up in apology and shut up.

"He was quiet, hardly speaking. When I asked how the new recruits he was training were progressing he replied they were 'fine'."

Now that was worrying. I had never heard the old Jaffa refer to any of his students as being 'fine'.

"He spoke of retiring."

"Retiring? What? Hanging up his staff weapon and gardening?" Although, now I thought about it, he hadn't been wearing his armor lately, and I hadn't seen a staff weapon with him when he last visited. Then I had another thought. "Where exactly do Jaffa warriors retire to, T? I haven't seen a lot of elderly Jaffa scattered around the galaxy, enjoying a quiet time."

"No, O'Neill." His voice took on an even more somber tone. "Jaffa warriors do not retire. They die in battle or when their symbiotes mature and another cannot be obtained. Master Bra'tac is the first to reach such an advanced age without a symbiote. I fear he feels he has outlived his usefulness."

"Well that's just crap!" I couldn't imagine anyone less useless.

"I agree, however I do not think that Master Bra'tac does." He was still giving me that concentrated stare thing, so I knew there was more.

"You have a plan, don't you?"

He nodded. "Indeed. Would you consider talking to Bra'tac?"

"Me? Why me? He never listens to me."

That evoked a small smile and a slight shake of the head. "He respects you, O'Neill." I couldn't help a snort of surprise, but Teal'c continued. "Plus you have a lot in common. Your perspective on withdrawing from combat may be very valuable."

Withdrawing from combat? What the heck was he talking about? My situation was nothing like Bra'tac's. I was right in the heart of things. Facing danger on a daily basis.

I felt like a hypocrite even as I thought it.

With a deep, and heartfelt sigh, I nodded. "I'll have to get the okay from the President, but I don't see that being a problem. And I'll need a couple of days to clear my schedule." I opened my laptop, checking my daily calendar to see what meetings I could move. "Shall we say Tuesday? Afternoon?"

And that was just sad. I was slotting my friend's concerns neatly in between meetings and paperwork. When had my priorities gotten so mixed up?

I shut the laptop and looked Teal'c in the eye. "I'll call the President now, and should be ready to go in an hour."

xoxoxoxoxoxo

And so I found myself stepping down from the gate and onto PSX-655, the most recent Jaffa training site.

I can't say I had a particularly warm welcome. Teal'c and I had decided it was better if I went alone, and walking through that camp I had the distinct impression that it would have been much easier if I had my friend with me. The looks of assessment and then disregard would have been demoralizing if I hadn't already concluded that the average age of the recruits was about that of Rya'c. Just kids.

It didn't take me long to find Bra'tac, sitting, watching a bout between two young men as others looked on.

He stood as I approached.

"O'Neill."

"Bra'tac."

I spotted a few frowns from the listening youngsters, but I'm not about to start calling anyone 'master' at my stage in life.

He gestured for me to take a seat beside him, and I joined him in sitting cross-legged on the ground, back against a tree trunk, all the while wondering what possible objection the Jaffa—and for that matter most other alien races we encountered—had to chairs.

"What brings you here, O'Neill?" He had his eyes on the fight as he spoke, but I noted he didn't react when one of the boys made an obvious mistake, enabling his opponent to take the advantage and sprawl him face down in the dust.

"I felt like enjoying some time offworld. Thought I'd come and see how you were doing."

He glanced at me for a moment before nodding to another pair to begin. "As you see, I am doing well."

"How are the new kids?"

"Fine."

"Keeping you busy?"

This time it was more of a glare. "Do you have something you wish to say to me, O'Neill?"

I shook my head, well aware of the ears listening to every word. "Nope, just being polite."

Suddenly I found myself looking up at the old man as he jumped to his feet in a move that would have made a younger man envious.

"Then let us stop being polite with each other."

I stared nonplussed at his back as he walked off, heading for the trees.

He didn't pause, throwing his next words back over his shoulder. "Well, are you coming?"

Getting to my feet, a little less dramatically than Bra'tac and with a lot more creaking, I hurried after him.

We walked rapidly along a path until we reached a clearing some distance from the camp. I finally managed to catch up with him, mainly because he stopped.

He moved to the attack immediately.

"Did Teal'c send you?"

I straightened, looking down my nose. "I'm the General. No one sends me anywhere." Then I hesitated and decided to qualify that statement just a little. "Except the President. And the Joint Chiefs. And maybe Hammond. Okay, so I get sent places by people all the time. But not Teal'c. I send Teal'c, not the other way around…"

"Stop babbling, human."

Babbling! Babbling! I do not babble. And I see we're back to 'human' again. This was going well.

I decided that honesty was the best policy.

"He's worried about you."

"And he sent you?"

Now, that was clearly an insult and I was beginning to get pissed.

"Yes. For some reason he thought I might be able to talk to you, goodness knows why." I turned my back and kicked a stone clear across to the nearest tree, where it hit with a satisfying 'whack'.

"I have no desire to talk to you. I have better things to do," His tone was dismissive, and if there was anything designed to make my hackles rise it's being dismissed. I spun and strode across the few feet separating us, right up into his face.

Then I poked my finger in his chest.

"What? Like sit around watching kids going through the motions without giving any guidance? Feeling sorry for yourself, are you? Don't like being the old man for real, eh? No one looking up to you anymore, is that it? You just going to give up?"

"Like you?"

And he pushed me.

Hard.

I regained my balance and stepped up again. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"How many times have you been out of that little room you hide in lately? You have to ask permission to go through the chap'pai like some child they are afraid will get hurt. Teal'c has told me you spend all your days writing on papers. Where is the great Tau'ri warrior O'Neill now? Is he too old to come out of his hole or merely too afraid?"

I admit that what I did next could be considered, in some circles, to be very stupid.

"Not as afraid as you are, old man."

Next thing I knew I was face down on the ground, grass and twigs up my nose, and the weight of a wiry ancient and decrepit Jaffa on my back. Using all my skill, I twisted, throwing him off and rolled just in time to avoid a foot in my groin.

He wasn't playing.

We both regained our feet and began circling, watching each other's eyes.

"There was a time when you would be dead by now, human, your neck snapped."

I jumped as he swept his leg up in a wide circular motion, and countered with a high kick that he easily blocked.

"How can I teach young warriors the skills I no longer have?"

His elbow connected with my ribs and I stifled a yell, using my forearm to block and strike back.

"Getting old isn't a crime."

"It is if you have become nothing but an object of scorn."

I dropped him with a well placed jumping kick to the chest, but he was up before I could follow through.

"You have more experience in your little finger than all the other Jaffa combined. Don't you think that counts for something?"

"Tell me something, General. How does it make you feel to know you are seen more as a liability in battle than an asset?"

We circled and I attempted to slow my breathing.

"Frustrated. But I'm not ready to throw in the towel."

He frowned in obvious confusion and I grabbed his left arm, tossing him over my shoulder. We ended up on the grass, me on top. Bra'tac made a halfhearted attempt to throw me off, and then lay back, his eyes closed.

"You can get off me, O'Neill. I am finished."

I slid sideways, lying beside him, my ribs hurting and sweat running into my eyes. He remained still. I expected him to have some move ready for when I lowered my guard, but he seemed to have just given up – something I never expected to see from this man, despite my previous words.

"This wasn't exactly what Teal'c had in mind when he suggested this you know."

"Teal'c still has a lot to learn."

"Perhaps, but he was right. And I don't think you give him, or yourself, enough credit. But again, that's just what this 'human' thinks."

After a few minutes he propped himself up on one elbow and gave me a look that reminded me for the first time that day of the Jaffa I had come to admire over the years.

"Come, let us return to the camp. We will speak of this no more."

xoxoxoxoxoxo

We had gone only a few yards when the first Death Glider strafed the clearing, the trail of the ship's passing shown in deadly bursts of fire flaring near enough to our running figures to feel the heat. A second ship crossed the path of the first, turning to come in even lower, and, as one, we dropped, rolling into a small ditch, our heads down and covered.

The massive explosion flung me sideways and I came to a sudden halt against something hard as dirt and wood rained down.

"O'Neill. We must move."

God! Give me a minute here.

Then I realized Bra'tac was right. We didn't have a minute. Those Death Gliders would be back to make sure of us any second now.

I moved.

We ran for the trees and made it just in time, throwing ourselves flat once more as another explosion rent the air. When I raised my head to look all I could see of the clearing was a massive crater, smoke rising from the mangled dirt.

Feeling the need to say something, even if it was stating the obvious, I muttered a soft "That was close."

Bra'tac didn't reply, content with merely raising his eyes a little. I didn't blame him. Explosions continued in the distance, as the ships carried on with their deadly work.

"Will you be able to follow me to the camp?"

I had no idea what he meant until I began to raise myself up and my arm collapsed under me.

"Crap!"

I struggled up again, Bra'tac's hands doing most of the work, and together we shuffled me back to lean against a thin and very uncomfortable tree. The top of my right sleeve was burn away, exposing red, raw flesh in a large wound stretching down almost to my elbow. I grimaced, realizing how lucky I'd been to escape with what must have been just a glancing blow.

Bra'tac tutted, sitting back on his heels. "I will send word to the SGC as soon as I am able. Remain here."

He had already begun to rise when I grabbed a handful of his robes, yanking him back.

"What are you planning on doing?"

"I shall rescue any of my charges that survive." And with that he was off again.

"Hey! Not without me you won't." I lurched to my feet, leaning my left shoulder against the tree. "I can fire a weapon just as well with my left hand as my right. Give me a minute to put a bandage around this and I'll be ready." I saw his hesitation, and continued. "You can't do this alone. You need backup."

He gave a terse nod. "Very well."

Working one handed I took a bandage from a vest pocket. Bra'tac watched for a moment as I struggled to hold it on the appropriate spot. After I sprinkled some antiseptic powder in the burn, he took the bandage from me without a word, efficiently binding my arm. Keeping with his desire for silence, I nodded my thanks, and we set off, staying low and alert for enemy troops. The wound was becoming more painful with every step. Given the circumstances, there wasn't much else I could do but ignore it, so I gritted my teeth and managed to keep up with the fast moving Jaffa.

It didn't take long to reach the camp site, and we halted just inside the line of trees. It wasn't a pretty sight. The few buildings and tents were in ruins, bodies or what remained of them, scattered on the ground around them.

I tried to see the symbol on the Jaffa searching the debris, but couldn't get a clear enough view to identify it. There only positive thing about the situation was the small group of young trainees being herded together. At least some of Bra'tac's students had survived.

Now we just needed to rescue them.

Simple.

I turned to the old man. "Plan?"

"They will be taken back to the false god's base to be used as examples. They will die a painful and lingering death. We will free them before this happens."

Yeah, well – excellent!

"I repeat – plan?"

He continued to watch the scene as he answered. "I will divert their attention, while you free my men. You will then make a run for the chap'pai and take them to Earth."

He never changed.

"And yet again I repeat – plan?"

This time he looked at me, that glare he used so effectively on everyone else bouncing off my thick skin.

"I'll tell you what, how about I suggest a plan and you can ignore it – okay?" I didn't wait for him to comment, continuing straight on. "I have some C4 here." I patted my vest. "I'll go plant it somewhere." I looked around, then grinned, pointing. "What say that troop ship there goes boom? You sneak up to where to kids are…you can sneak, can't you?" I had my doubts, sneaking not being a normal Jaffa ability, but I carried on anyway. "And when it all goes bang, take out the bad guys and head for the gate. Don't shut the door too soon, I'll be right behind you."

He grunted. "Somewhat simplistic, is it not?"

"And your plan wasn't?"

He grunted again, and I'm sure I saw a slight upward twist of his lips. "Very well." He gave me a calculating look. "Are you sure you are up to it?"

I pulled my P-90 from my shoulder, switching it to the other side. "As up to it as you are, old man."

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Creeping closer, I was able to make out their tattoos, but it did me little good except to confirm their boss wasn't one of the big chiefs in the snake world. The wiggly scrawl across their foreheads meant nothing to me, but I noted it so I could draw it for Daniel later. He might have some clue who the new kid on the block was.

I did know one thing - these Jaffa were cocky. They must have figured all opposition was eliminated, only setting a few widely spaced perimeter guards. I took out the two nearest the ship with my knife, collecting a handy zat on the way – much lighter than my own weapon, and easier to operate one handed. Leaving the C4 stuck to the hull in three spots, and knowing we didn't have much time before it went up, I hurried towards the enclosure that had been set up to house the kids. No way was I going to leave Bra'tac without backup.

Following the trail of bodies that marked his path, I arrived just in time.

I had spotted Bra'tac when the alarm went up. Shouts and running footsteps heralded the arrival of the Jaffa, and I made it to his side, turning to protect his back as he opened the enclosure. This was a job for the P-90 and I let it do what it did best, cutting down the approaching warriors while the youngsters ran for the exit. I took a moment to toss on the zat I had liberated from its owner, before carrying on with my deadly work.

"O'Neill, they are out!"

He didn't need to explain. I took off running, firing backwards as I went, relying on Bra'tac to clear the way forward.

It's always amazed me how quickly things seem to happen when you're fighting for your life. The pain in my arm as I held my weapon hardly impinged on my consciousness as I concentrated on two things: not falling over and hitting my targets. The shouting was loud in my ears, the cries of the falling warriors louder still, and the smell of death everywhere. When my ammunition ran out, I pulled my knife, slashing at anything that came near me. Others fighting beside me used any weapons they could find. Staff blasts hit one of my fellow fighters and I managed a quick look down at him as he fell, seeing the hole in his chest and knowing that I could do nothing for him.

We reached the gate, and I heard the thump as it dialed. Grabbing my GDO, I keyed in the code and shouted a "Go!"

A staff weapon opened fire alongside of me as Bra'tac slipped into position at my right shoulder, guarding my weak side, and we moved up the steps together.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Close the iris!"

My shout was accompanied by a staff blast hitting the wall, and the huge metal shield shut with a clang.

The gate room seemed filled with people, the young rebel Jaffa looking dazed as they were helped out, their injuries being accessed by medical personnel as they left. I could see Daniel and Teal'c pushing their way through the crowd, both looking anxious. I glanced up to find Carter's worried face staring down at me from the Control Room.

Doctor Warner was heading in my direction, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes, and I looked down at myself. My uniform was covered in blood, mostly not mine fortunately, but I couldn't deny that my uselessly hanging right arm was a grisly sight. I looked up again, catching Bra'tac's eye.

He grinned.

"You fight well, O'Neill – for an old man."

I grinned back, aware that we probably looked somewhat odd, grinning at each other like this. "You didn't do too badly yourself – for an old man."

The doctor reached me as the Jaffa master replied.

"Not so old after all. I have decided."

xoxoxoxoxoxo


	16. Jack's Day

Jack's Day

0814hr

"Is this working?"

Poking it with my finger I spoke again.

"Testing, one two three, testing."

I frowned down at the tiny machine with its little blinking lights.

"Does anyone actually say that anymore?"

Oh damn! Note to self – do not say anything out loud when this thing is recording.

Well, not not anything. I can say something – like reports and stuff. Stuff I want Walter to type up for me. Of course, I can type one handed, but one left handed is a very slow way to type. This will be much easier. Nice of Carter to get it for me.

I wonder if it has games.

Crap!

"Walter!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Can you send this to Carter and ask her to put it back together for me?"

xoxoxoxoxoxo

1005hr

"I bid you farewell, O'Neill." Bra'tac grabbed my arm and pulled me into an enthusiastic embrace completely ignoring the fact I still have a large area of healing burn on my arm.

I managed a nonchalant smile and patted him on the back with one hand. "Don't be a stranger. You know you're always welcome."

He nodded, already turning to climb the ramp to the gate. "Thank you, however I shall be busy, O'Neill. We have many more Jaffa to free."

A quick exchange of bows with Teal'c and he was gone, a definite spring in his step, his robes already replaced with the armor of a fighting man.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

1142hr

"Now play nice with the natives, and remember your curfew. Don't make me have to come and get you."

Daniel rolled his eyes as he settled his pack on his back. "We'll be fine, Jack."

"Yeah, well I've heard that before."

"SG-18 reported that the locals on PTZ-301 were very friendly, sir. We'll be back before you know we're gone."

As SG-1 stepped through into the wormhole I wondered if Carter really believed her parting words – or if there would ever be a time when I didn't miss them when they were off-world.

I doubted it.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

1310hr

I need a stamp. That would be better than this left handed scrawl I'm making in place of my signature. Walter says he can't tell the difference – I think I've been insulted.

"General O'Neill?"

Speak of the devil.

Walter stuck his head around my office door and I used the interruption as an excuse to put down the pen.

I smiled at the resigned look on his face when he saw how many files I still had to deal with. "Yes, Sergeant?"

"There was a call for you, sir, while you were debriefing SG-5. Sergeant Morley. He asked for an appointment"

I realised I hadn't spoken to Morley in weeks. I stood. "I'll go see him."

"But General. . . " Walter waved his hand at my desk, looking panicked.

"You can deal with most of this Walter. That's why they pay you the big bucks."

As I left the room I heard a decidedly annoyed mumble – something about big bucks and generals – but I just carried on walking and grinning.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

1318hr

I reached the front desk up top and peered around, not seeing any familiar faces. I suppose I shouldn't have assumed Morley would be there. As I approached the counter the duty sergeant held out the log book.

I shook my head. "I'm not signing out. I'm looking for Sergeant Morley. Is he on duty?"

"He's on his lunch break, sir." He glanced at the large clock on the opposite wall. "He just went, but I can have him called."

I put out my hand as he moved to pick up the phone. "No, don't worry. Is he in the cafeteria?" At his nod I continued "I'll join him. I haven't had lunch myself yet."

I strode to the elevator, thinking as it dropped down a level that I hadn't even realised it was lunchtime. My stomach rumbled in complaint and I was thankful I was alone.

The cafeteria was crowded. NORAD worked to a much more rigid schedule than the SGC and the majority of personnel seemed to have decided that this was the time to eat. Sergeant Morley was with two of his colleagues at a table towards the centre of the large room so I wove my way towards him, aware of the wake of whispers I was leaving behind me. He spotted me before I reached him and was already standing as I came up.

"General O'Neill." His companions looked startled and followed him up when they realised I intended to stop at their table.

"Hello, Morley. You asked to see me?" I admit I spoke a little louder than necessary just to see the reaction. It wouldn't hurt Morley's reputation any to have a general come to him instead of the other way around. "Mind if I join you?"

He gestured at the empty place beside him. "Yes, of course sir. Please do."

"I'll just go get myself something to eat first. I'm starving."

"Let me get you something, General," one of Morley's companions offered. "What would you like?"

I smiled my appreciation. "A tunafish sandwich and a black coffee will do, Sergeant. . . ?"

"Oates, sir. I'll go get it straight away."

I sat and Morley and the other man took their seats again.

"This is Sergeant Villman, sir. He works in Stores."

I smiled at the older, sandy haired man. "Pleased to meet you, Villman. You been stationed here long?"

"Eleven years, sir. I'm coming up on retirement next year."

"Looking forward to it?"

He grinned. "Hell yeah!" and added a "Sir" in a slightly abashed voice. I couldn't help laughing.

"I would have waited for an appointment, sir, " Morley interjected, looking worried. "It wasn't that important and well . . ." His eyes were on the sling holding my right arm.

"This? Training accident." I smiled as they both snorted. Sergeant Oates appeared at my elbow, and put a plate holding a sandwich, and a cup of coffee down on the table before sitting.

I took a long sip of the hot liquid and smiled in appreciation. I needed that! I took a bite of the sandwich and swallowed before continuing.

"What did you want to see me about, Morley?"

"We've got a competition coming up, sir, and we're one competitor down. It's not too important, but I'd still rather not forfeit if I can help it. I was going to ask if you could shoot, but . . . " He gestured at my arm.

"This little thing?" I restrained a wince at the pull on my abused flesh as I moved it slightly. "It's no problem, just a slight burn." I noted his quickly concealed look of scepticism. "I'll tell you what – you call my office with the date of the match and I'll see if I can be there."

"It's in four days, sir."

Oh. Damn.

I took another bite of my sandwich, thinking.

"Okay, don't forfeit. Let me check out a couple of things and I'll get back to you on it tomorrow."

xoxoxoxoxoxo

1652hr

Carter brought me back the little recording thingy before she left. I remember when they used to be called dictaphones, but back then they were much bigger and had buttons large enough to for me to read easily.

One of my fingernails on my right hand hurts. It's half dead where it was stabbed by something during that fight with the Jaffa. Strange how it's more painful than the staff weapon burn. So now I have one bandaided finger sticking out of the sling and looking totally out of place.

Oh well – back to work.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

1735hr

Requisition of towels: form 34C.

I wonder what's happening in the Control Room.

I'll go look.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

1738hr

Talk about timing! I walked in to the sound of 'Unscheduled off-world activation."

"It's SG-1's IDC, sir."

Moving closer to the window, I gave the command. "Open the iris then, son."

I felt a momentary pang of concern, but brushed it off. They were early, but there could be any number of reasons for that. It had been a straight forward meet and greet. No reason to worry.

I was already half way down the stairs to the gate room before I realised I'd moved.

And boy, was I glad I had reached the bottom of the ramp before SG-1 stepped through, otherwise I might have missed out on some of the finer details. As it was I had a front seat view of Carter practically falling through the gate in hysterical laughter, followed closely by Daniel wearing the latest in designer shackles and not much else, with Teal'c bringing up the rear. I caught T's eyes and I swear he almost lost it for a moment before he regained his usual unemotional mask – the one I saw through years ago.

I rocked on my heels, my left hand in my pocket. "Hi there kids. Have fun?"

Carter gulped, took a deep breath and gulped again, her face red. She managed a strangled "Yes, sir."

"It was indeed a pleasurable experience, O'Neill."

I stared into the face of the only person yet to speak. "Daniel? Make new friends?"

The chains that hung from his wrists clanged as they tugged on the wide bands of metal locked into place around his ankles.

He glared at me. "Can we take this somewhere else, Jack?"

I nodded in sympathy. "Where would you suggest Daniel? The nearest dominatrix's house? Got the address?"

"Oh very funny." He waved his hands, setting the chains clinking again. "Just get me out of these!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Got the keys?"

Daniel stared down in consternation at the locks.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!"

I patted him on his bare back, noting it was totally unmarked by whip or branding iron. Couldn't have been much of a torture session if Carter's laughter and Teal'c's amusement was anything to go by.

"Come on, let's get these things off you and you can tell me all about your adventure."

The surveillance footage of our trip to the infirmary was probably selling for a vast sum on the SGC internal black market within minutes of our leaving the gate room. I made a mental note to get a copy.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

1829hr

"I don't ever want to go there ever again, Do you understand, Jack, ever!"

"I thought the Hemtheeps to be a particularly friendly and obliging tribe, Daniel Jackson."

The look Daniel threw Teal'c would have curdled milk. He shifted in his chair.

"Stay still please, Doctor Jackson. This is very tricky." Siler hooked a strange looking saw-like tool under one of the wrist shackles. I noticed his largest wrench sitting on the table beside him and wondered what exactly he intended to do with it.

"Colonel, while Daniel loses his jewellery perhaps you'd care to enlighten me on how exactly this came to pass."

Carter nodded, keeping her eyes resolutely forward and I realised that Daniel's boxers had dropped on his hips, held only by the chains around his waist. I decided not to warn him.

"Apparently the natives on PTZ-301, the Hemtheeps as they call themselves, have an ancient ritual that Daniel found fascinating."

"Really?" I let my gaze flicker to the action, and back to SG-1's CO.

She smiled, and I noticed her eyes shift just as mine had. "Yes, sir. When he discovered the ritual was being carried out today he just couldn't miss the chance to participate."

I shook my head in mock exasperation. "Daniel, Daniel, Daniel – when will you ever learn?"

"It was a perfectly innocent ritual, Jack. It was just the , . . " He waved an indignant hand at himself. "the ceremonial costume, or lack thereof that I hadn't noted in my translation."

Siler stepped back, pulling the chains from Daniel's body, and before I could say anything, Daniel stood.

This time even Teal'c laughed.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

1915hr

"Do you need me for anything else, sir?"

I shook my head. "No, you go on home Walter. I'll put the cat out."

"Very funny, sir." He smiled ever so slightly, but then he likes my jokes. "I'll see you tomorrow then, General. Your first meeting is scheduled for 0900 hours."

It wasn't until he left that I realised how late it was. Suddenly that ever complaining stomach of mine was reminding me I hadn't eaten in hours, except those cookies Walter had provided with my coffee.

I should go get something.

And look for Carter. See if she can get this tiny button unstuck on this thing. It's more trouble than it's worth – it doesn't even have games.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

2147hr

Swiping my access card down the slot beside the door I waited until it unlocked, pushing it open with my shoulder. The range was completely empty, just as I expected given the lateness of the hour.

Apart from the fight with the Jaffa the previous week I hadn't shot left-handed for years except during the occasional practice. The firefight as Bra'tac and I ran for the gate could hardly be called shooting either – it was more like uncontrolled carnage. I needed to see how accurate I could be.

I knew there was no way my right arm would be healed enough to compete in a match in four days. As it was I was sure the doctor would be very unimpressed to see what I was about to do. I was meant to rest and not put any strain on my arm whatsoever.

I raised the Beretta and took careful aim, taking my time.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

0019hr

"Goodnight, sir."

I spared a thought for the driver pulled from the warmth of the mountain to take me home and summoned up a smile of thanks. He waited as I turned the key in the lock, only getting back in the car when I had entered the house. I knew he was watching the surroundings carefully and felt unusually grateful for his care. Normally the need for a bodyguard while outside the base was irking, but tonight I was just too tired to be alert and I knew it.

Still, I had accomplished one thing. I now knew I could hold my own in the competition, albeit a little slower and less accurate than my normal form. I had to remember to call Morley in the morning to put me on the team.

Throwing my keys on the coffee table, I pushed myself into going straight to my bedroom, knowing the routine of getting out of my clothes and ready for bed would take twice as long as normal.

By the time I finally slipped under the covers my finger was throbbing after bumping it on the hand basin while cleaning my teeth. The now half black nail was once again covered with a new bandaid although I was beginning to think it might be quicker and less painful to just pull the nail off completely and be done with it.

I lay on my back, cradling my right arm with my left and working through the pain that now sent urgent signals down the nerves from my shoulder to my elbow. Taking a few deep calming breaths I took myself back through my day,

There had been quite a few good moments when I thought about it.

I laughed out loud as I pictured Daniel's face while he stood there on the ramp. I was sure he would enjoy the joke as much as the rest of us – eventually.

The rest of the day hadn't been too bad either, from Bra'tac's new enthusiasm for returning to the fight to Sergeant Villman's pleasure at the thought of retirement.

This wasn't where I imagined myself to be ten years ago either, but I had long realised that life is what happens while you are making plans.

My eyes were drawn to the photo of Charlie I kept beside the bed.

Sure I'd change some things, but I was surprisingly happy doing what I was doing.

I whispered a goodnight to my son as I did every night, and shut my eyes.

xoxoxoxoxoxo


	17. Challenges, Choices, and Burns

Challenges, Choices, and Burns 

"I thought you said this wasn't an important match?" I stared in blank disbelief at the information Morley had handed me.

The sergeant had the grace to look embarrassed. "I didn't want you to feel pressured into competing, sir."

I couldn't really be angry with him. Asking me to be part of the team had been a last resort and then he'd found out I was injured, and my shooting arm at that. It must have been hard to appear as nonchalant as he had.

I began reading the sheets with the details of the shoot. It was to be held at the Academy, which I was grateful for as it meant I'd be close to the base if I was needed. I ran my eye down the list of competitors – interservice teams from all over the country – and gave Morley another look. He must have rightly interpreted it as accusing because he squirmed a little in his seat.

"If you don't want to shoot, I'd understand."

I shook my head. "No. I have no problem shooting, but you do have to understand that I won't be able to compete at the same standard as usual. Given that this is an important competition you may want to find someone else."

He shook his head in return. "I'll be honest, sir, if it was any other competition I'd withdraw the team, but if we don't place in this we won't get into the finals at Camp Robinson. There is no one else, General. You're it."

"No pressure, Morley?"

He gave a small smile "No pressure at all, sir."

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"What's up?"

I tore my attention away from the vital business of twirling my beer bottle cap on the tabletop. "Why? What makes you think anything is up?" I spun the cap again.

Daniel's hand darted out, snagging it as it started on its eccentric path towards him.

"Hey! I was…"

"What, Jack? Not listening to a word I said?"

"No," I protested vehemently. "I was finding your little talk on the Canaanite culture fascinating." And I had been, up to a point. Like after the first five minutes. After all, it wasn't as if I didn't know about the ancestors of the Phoenicians, but I couldn't muster the same enthusiasm he seemed to have for the subject.

Daniel gave me a disbelieving look. "Come on – what's the problem. You've obviously got something on your mind. You've been like this since we left the base."

I found myself looking around for something else to fiddle with, but finding nothing, contented myself with taking a sip of beer. The silence stretched and I knew he wasn't going to let it go.

"It's this." I gestured to my still sling held arm.

"Hurting?"

"No." I qualified my answer. "Well, yes – it is, but that isn't the problem."

"So what is?"

I glanced around, seeing no one near us, but lowered my voice anyway. I had no idea why – some sort of defence mechanism because I didn't want to expose my private life to the world – who knew. "I'm shooting in an interforces competition in three days time."

"You're what?" He leaned forwarded, looking confused as if he expected a punchline.

"I'm shooting in a competition."

His eyes got wide and he looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses.

Maybe I had.

"Jack, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're right handed."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, Daniel." I couldn't help resorting to sarcasm.

"No, really – what possessed you?"

I gave him the only answer I could. "The team needed me." I saw him about to comment, then stop as if he was considering my words. What he did next surprised me more than anything over the last few days. He nodded.

"Okay."

"So you don't think I'm crazy?"

He smiled, moving to pick his jacket off the bar stool next to him. "I didn't say that, but you're you and nothing I say will change that. The team needs you - I do understand."

"You do?"

"Of course I do, Jack. After all these years you really need to ask?" He shrugged one arm into the jacket as I drank the last mouthfuls of my beer and stood. "I just have one question."

"And it is?"

"Where is this competition being held? There is no way I'm going to miss this."

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Yet another meeting at Peterson. I knew they were an essential part of any senior officer's schedule – heaven knows, I had attended enough of them as a Colonel – but deep down inside I resented the time spent away from my base and my people.

Glancing at my wristwatch I realised there wasn't any point going back to the Mountain, so I yanked my cell from my jacket pocket and gave Walter the sad news that I was heading home early for once.

My driver was ready and waiting, yet another annoyance in a long list that seemed to be growing by the hour. I wanted my own car and the freedom to go wherever I pleased without someone taking note of my every movement, but ridiculous though it seemed, I couldn't drive even though I was well enough to be shooting a deadly weapon while watched by a crowd of spectators the day after tomorrow.

Staff weapon burns are notoriously bad at healing and mine wasn't an exception. It still looked like undercooked meat every time the dressing was changed, and the slightest bump rated very highly on my personal pain scale.

So, I had to have a driver.

I climbed into the car, managing to avoid the young airman's solicitous helping hand. I wasn't a cripple here. One damaged wing wasn't enough to keep an O'Neill down.

We were already most of the way to my house when I decided to make a side trip. The date had finally registered with me while in the meeting – it was two years tomorrow since my promotion to General. Last year I'd gotten back from my Aunt's funeral and arranged for my friends to come over for a little impromptu get-together.

Why not make it a tradition?

Seemed like as good an excuse as any to have a party.

Sweet.

I called Colonel Carter and organised for her to contact the others, plus anyone else she thought might be appropriate, and ordered the car to the nearest mall for supplies.

I don't think Airman Hatch expected to be going grocery shopping with the general when he was given his assignment, but there was no way I could carry shopping or push trolleys around, so he was it. Carefully avoiding the curious looks we attracted, I shepherded him around the supermarket, pointing out the items I needed as he added them to the cart.

It was as I gestured to the salad dressing that I realised having Hatch with me might have made the shopping easier but it was costing me a small fortune. My cart was filled with the most expensive brands in the store. I was subconsciously trying to live up to my status as a general by not being seen as 'cheap'. I couldn't help laughing at myself.

"Sir?"

"Doesn't this strike you as amusing, Airman?"

He knew exactly what I was talking about. "No, sir." His gaze shifted upwards and to the right and I knew he was lying.

I nodded, smiling. "Uh huh."

His lips twitched. He was probably already picturing himself telling the tale of the general's shopping trip to his friends when he got back to base. I couldn't blame him.

Might as well give him something more exciting to talk about than my choice of bread. Looking around, I pointed to a pair of sheer black stockings, and saw the look of surprise that briefly flashed across his face before his training took over and he grabbed them, putting them on top of a box of cereal.

I could always give them to Carter.

We were at the checkout when I spotted Sara two rows over. For a few minutes I just stood there, inching forwarded, watching.

She had a small basket with just a few items in it and was moving a lot faster than I was.

Wondering why I was hesitating, I made a quick decision. "I'll be back."

I was off before Hatch could tear his vacant gaze from the front covers of the magazines on the racks and caught up with her just as she finished paying.

"Hey there."

She stuffed her wallet into her handbag and looked up, startled.

"Jack! What are you doing here?"

I admit – the first thing that went through me mind was 'D'uh!', but I confined myself to a smile and a vague comment about shopping.

I glanced across to see Hatch was next at the checkout, my groceries already loaded onto the checkout counter.

"Could you hold on a minute, Sara? I've got to pay."

She followed the direction of my gaze and raised her eyebrows in an obvious show of amazement. "A little young for you, isn't he, Jack?"

"Very funny, not!" I laughed, but inside I was deeply annoyed. My ex-wife knew exactly which buttons to push to get a reaction and I wasn't going to bite.

The transaction completed, I gave Hatch my keys, telling him to pack the groceries into the car and meet me at the liquor store, then turned back to the waiting woman.

"General?" Her eyes roamed over my uniform, taking in the stars on the shoulders. "When did that happen?"

"A couple of years ago." I waited while she picked up the single plastic bag, not offering to help, any thoughts of chivalry having left when the stiffness from my injury made itself felt once again.

"And the arm?"

"Just a burn. Nothing serious."

We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

This was ridiculous. I'd lived with this woman for years, had a child with her, and now we couldn't hold a conversation?

"How's your Dad?"

She gave me a tight smile, and began walking, heading for the exit. I followed, easily keeping up with her slow pace.

"He's okay. He moved to Florida a few months ago – loves it there. He says the weather is much better for his arthritis."

A young child ran past us, his mother in hot pursuit, and I caught Sara's eye, recognising the wistful look as her gaze followed the pair. I had a flash of memory of our own son needing to be constantly watched at that age.

We looked away, each caught for a moment in the other's sorrow.

"You're looking good, Jack."

I was grateful to return to less emotional territory, so I grinned, pleased at the compliment. "It's just the uniform. Remember how you used to say that even a monkey could look good in it."

She smiled a little broader this time. "I remember."

Sara wasn't looking too bad herself, although she had put on a little weight and the lines around her eyes were more pronounced than the last time I'd seen her. Not that I'd had much time to take in more than a brief impression in the chaos of everything that happened with the crystal being. I'd promised I would explain it all, how our dead son had walked out of that room with me, but I never had. It had been too difficult, and I have to admit that I had avoided the issue, wanting to just forget the whole thing.

"I've got a new job."

Her statement broke into my thoughts, and I paused. "That's great. Doing what?"

"I'm working for a publishing company in New York. Been there about three months now. I'm really enjoying it"

I was pleased for her. We had both drifted, lost for a while after Charlie's death, but it seemed we had each found a direction for our lives again. I knew Sara had rented out our old home a couple of years ago and moved into an apartment. She had phoned me, explaining she needed a fresh start, and I'd agreed. The idea of keeping Charlie's room as some sort of memorial to him was abhorrent to both of us. For a while we had needed it, needed to feel close to him, but as time passed I knew that Charlie was more alive in my memory and my heart than he was in inanimate objects, and I think Sara had come to feel the same. She sent me a few of his things, kept some for herself, and with my blessing, had given the rest to charity for other children to use.

The parking lot was full. Sara gestured towards the far side. "I'm parked over there."

"Where are you staying?" I continued to walk beside her, between the rows of cars.

"With Angela Brown. She's going to be a grandmother soon, you know. I needed to arrange the shipping of some more of my things so she offered to put me up."

Angela was going to be a grandmother! That didn't seem possible – our old neighbour was only a few years older than Sara. But then we weren't getting any younger either. Sara halted next to a sporty little yellow convertible, putting her shopping bag down at her feet to retrieve her keys from her handbag.

"Sweet." I stepped back a few paces, looking at its sleek lines. It was a far cry from the practical family sedan she used to drive when we were married. But then Sara wasn't the same woman I'd married either.

She slid the bag into the front passenger seat, and turned, startling me by reaching up to give me a swift peck on the cheek.

"It's been good to see you, Jack." She smiled at me as she put her sunglasses on.

"Same here, Sara. Keep in touch."

For a second I thought of inviting her to the party, but the words died on my lips as she pulled out, waving me farewell. We were leading two completely separate lives now, the only thing we still had in common being memories, and pleasant though it had been to catch up, the pleasure was tinged with the bitter taste of sadness and heartbreak.

I turned away.

Airman Hatch was probably wondering where I'd gotten to, so back across the parking lot I walked, half of my mind on watching where I was going, and the other half on the woman who had just driven away.

Sure enough, the airman was standing, looking rather conspicuous in his uniform, just outside the door to the liquor store. He straightened up as soon as he saw me, looking rather relieved.

I waved him toward the entrance. "Come on, son, let's get the important part of the shopping done."

xoxoxoxoxoxo

The party was in full swing. There weren't many there, but they were all people without whom I would have had a much harder time surviving the stresses of running the SGC. Reynolds, Siler, Ferretti, Carter, Dixon, Walter – they were all present, relaxed and enjoying themselves. Daniel was keeping the bowls of chips and nuts filled, the more substantial food having been finished very quickly by the hungry hordes. Teal'c had charge of the drinks – I could be sure he would ensure no one drank too much with most being on duty the next day.

As for me, despite rumours to the contrary I took my responsibilities very seriously.

Besides – I was still on medication for my injury.

I sipped my ice cold lemonade and surveyed the scene. There were a couple of unexpected guests. Doctors Felger and Lee were having a lively argument over near the fireplace – something about chaos theory and time travel, but I tuned them out, deciding that Carter must have invited them just to annoy me.

I sank into my favourite chair, happy to not be the focus of attention for once. The opportunities to relax like this had been few and far between these last two years and I appreciated them all the more for their rarity. So much for promotion turning me into a desk jockey. At times I almost wished I could sit at my desk more often and just deal with the day to day running of the base instead of constantly fighting opponents both off world and on our own planet.

Still, despite the stress and almost daily challenges, I was surprisingly happy doing what I was doing. Being in charge wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Two years and counting and only now I'm realising that experience is something you don't get until just after you need it. Year three was coming, and as I sipped at my drink, I idly wondered what it would bring with it.

I certainly didn't know, but it was going to be fun finding out.

The End  


Author's Note: This is the last part of General Jack Year Two. I'm having a short break while real life is a little hectic then I shall continue with General Jack Year Three. Don't worry - you'll get to find out what happens at the competition. Thanks for all the reviews and encouragement. I appreciate each and every one.

Flatkatsi


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